


Brooding

by Amikame



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Estrangement, Family Drama, Forced Pregnancy, Mpreg, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2019-11-18 17:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 121,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikame/pseuds/Amikame
Summary: The turtles are still reeling from their father's death when Donatello is kidnapped by Agent Bishop and implanted with three genetically-engineered embryos. For Don, escaping from Area 51 and preventing a second Triceraton invasion will be far easier than enduring a forced pregnancy, and dealing with the fallout within his rapidly evolving family.





	1. Chapter 1

Donatello whistled happily as he strolled through the sewer tunnel. He wore glasses outfitted with magnifying lenses, and his cable splicing tools were tucked securely into his trusty brown duffel. Despite his carefree demeanor, he was a turtle on a mission.

The shell cells had been glitchy lately. One minute the signals would be perfectly fine, the next they'd be gone entirely. Don suspected that a faulty cable in his signal booster system was to blame. Corrosion had a tendency to wreak havoc down here, but unlike a lot of problems he'd been dealing with lately, this one was easily fixed.

While Donatello normally would have considered the task of locating and repairing the damage to be tedious, it felt really good to be out of the Lair. He had missed these serpentine tunnels, and couldn't resist kicking water around just to watch the resulting ripples dance, sparkling beneath the light cast by his headlamp.

The turtles had been cooped up for a while due to a particularly ferocious blizzard. They'd all been going a bit stir crazy, and it was only complicated by the fact that they were still hurting from Splinter's death several months before. Leonardo and Raphael's squabbling had been worse than ever, as Leo struggled to lead the family, and Raphael continuously defied him. Michelangelo's solution to all of the tension and hostility was to take his pranking to the next level in a misguided attempt to lighten things up. Naturally, this only made things worse. Always the quietest brother, Don was dealing with the stress and turmoil by repairing what little he could, and isolating himself more and more.

Under normal circumstances, Donatello would have asked someone to come with him to check the cables. It was one of Leo's rules that if you needed to leave the Lair, someone always had to come along to watch your back. Raphael had originally agreed to help out, but when Don emerged from his lab, he saw that his three brothers were at each other's throats yet again. Don decided to stealth his way past them, leaving a note on the fridge on his way out the door. Despite the foolishness, and perhaps even selfishness, that was inherent in sneaking away, it felt so good to leave the sounds of yelling in his wake.

So, even though he was lonely, and even though it was a dirty, tedious job, Donatello was happy. There was a certain air of guilt about being happy while in the midst of grief, but he had learned to steal these little moments whenever he could. They were necessary for the purpose of self-preservation. And really, little moments were all that they were. All too quickly they would be gone, pushed away by the task at hand, another fight to referee, or another sad memory to dwell upon.

As expected, the light from Don's headlamp fell upon a damaged cable, and he set to work. He was lost in concentration and still whistling absentmindedly when suddenly he was stung by something that his brain registered as a bee. But bees don't belong in the sewers in March. Don's mind processed this information. It was a dart! Before he had time to grasp the implications of this unexpected turn of events, his vision went blurry and his body grew heavy. Then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Donatello awoke on a bed, rather than a concrete floor as he would have expected. He had a killer headache, but he managed to open an eye and examine his surroundings. He was in a bedroom of sorts, similar to what he assumed a hotel room would be like. The bed was large, with several blankets and pillows. A nightstand with some bottled water placed upon it was beside him. There were no windows, and nothing hung on the walls. He could see a small half-full bookcase and an empty shelving unit on the other side of the room. There was nothing at all electronic in origin. There was no phone. The door was closed.

"Okaaaay," the turtle muttered to himself.

Realizing that he was unrestrained, Donatello stirred and attempted to rise from the bed. A stabbing pain shot through his skull, and his muscles burned, but he managed to sit up. He realized that he was dehydrated, and wondered how long he'd been unconscious. The bottled water on the nightstand was practically irresistible. While he feared that it could be drugged, he also knew that he had to drink it or risk passing out again anyway. He sipped at it cautiously before downing the whole thing.

Feeling a little better now, Don carefully rose from the bed and approached the door. It was unlocked, and he opened it to find that he was in what could be considered a small apartment. From his vantage point, he saw a bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen. He took a few hesitant steps and saw that there was also a completely empty room adjacent to the one that he had emerged from.

As he walked through this strange enclosure, several things became apparent. There were no windows, and the only external door was in the living room. It was locked from the outside. There were no electronics anywhere in this place, in fact, there weren't even electrical outlets. The light was supplied from a centralized spot on the ceiling of each room and could be dampened or intensified manually using wooden blinds. There was nothing made of glass and nothing that could serve as a weapon. While there was a kitchen, it did not include a stove, microwave, or any other way to heat food. There was a small cupboard containing dry goods such as cereal and crackers. There was also an old fashioned non-electric ice box, being used to store some cool beverages.

This place gave Donatello the creeps. Someone clearly intended to keep him here. This someone knew that Don was an expert at repurposing electronics, and therefore couldn't be trusted with them. His bo was gone, although his pads and mask remained. He still wore his belt, but someone had emptied out all of the pockets.

Don returned to the bedroom bookcase to see if he could pick up any clues as to where he was. The books were mostly high level mathematical and engineering texts. There was a decent amount of astrophysics thrown in, as well as a novel or two. There was even a book on neonatal and early childhood development, which seemed quite out of place.

A click sounded from the living room door, and Donatello's head swiveled around. He assumed a crouch, ready to spring up and engage in hand-to-hand combat if necessary. A moment later the door swung open and Donatello straightened back up. "Bishop!"

The high-level government employee and master manipulator smirked. "Good morning, Donatello. How are you feeling?"

Donatello was taken aback. Bishop wasn't generally the type to bother with pleasantries. This apartment also wasn't Bishop's usual style. Usually, he just strapped his specimens to an exam table. It took Don a moment to regain his composure and offer an answer. "I'm feeling confused. What is this place, and why am I here? Did you take my brothers too?"

Bishop folded his hands and tapped his pointer fingers together. "You are in Area 51. I brought you here so that we can have a discussion. I felt no need to include your brothers."

Donatello frowned. "If you simply want to have a discussion with me, then why did you feel the need to involve kidnapping?"

"In case the discussion doesn't go the way I want it to, of course," Bishop answered with an obnoxious grin.

Donatello sighed. Bishop was a tough nut to crack. Years ago, he was simply another villain looking to chase aliens, dissect mutants, and wreak havoc in general. Now his status was more nuanced. While his methods were ethically lacking, he generally had good intentions, when you look at the big picture. Furthermore, Donatello was quite familiar with the Bishop of the future, who was essentially running the planet and actually seemed to be doing a halfway decent job of it. While modern day Bishop might still be considered a threat to the turtles, at some point, Donatello knew that would change. Therefore, he had to handle this very carefully.

"What do you want to talk about, then?" Don asked, trying to keep an open mind. "It must be important."

"Extremely," Bishop agreed. "Donatello, have you ever stopped to consider why it is that you think of me as your enemy?"

Donatello spread his arms to take in the prison/apartment. "Kidnapping and detaining me against my will doesn't help! And you have tried to dissect my family and I. Then there was the faked alien invasion, kidnapping the president, and the whole outbreak virus thing."

"Most of that was just business. The outbreak was an unfortunate accident, and I haven't tried to dissect you in years."

Donatello rolled his eyes and even chuckled a little. "Oh, well that's okay, then. Water under the bridge, right?"

"Right." Bishop nodded, the sarcasm having clearly sailed right over his head. "It's not like I intend to keep you here forever, just until you see my side of the equation."

"What equation?" Don wondered aloud.

"All I've ever done is try to protect this planet and its residents," Bishop replied. "The very name of this organization is 'Earth Protection Force.' You may not agree with some of my methods, but ultimately our goals are the same. Why can't we work together?"

Donatello was struck by the absurdity of this moment. One minute he's repairing cables in the sewer, the next he's here, entertaining this inane conversation with a megalomaniac. Don scrubbed a hand down his face and internalized a sigh. "Isn't that a question for my brothers as well? We're a package deal," he replied.

"Are you, though?" Bishop inquired. "Surely you recognize that you have certain talents that they don't possess. Not only that, but quite frankly, I've always believed that your brothers are barbarians. I'd sooner chew glass than welcome them into this place. You, however, seem to be more civilized. You also have a tremendous amount of potential, and if there's anything that I hate, it's untapped potential."

"You're not exactly endearing yourself to me by calling my brothers barbarians, you know," Don quipped.

Bishop unclenched his hands. "My point is that they've been holding you back. Everyone grows, Donatello, and wouldn't you love to not only grow but to spread your wings and fly? My sources say that lately, things haven't been going well for you four. Maybe now is the time for you to consider a future apart from them?"

"Your sources? Who might they be?" Donatello scoffed. Sure, things were rough at home right now, but Don wouldn't abandon his family - not ever!

"That doesn't matter," Bishop dismissed.

"It does to me," Don persisted.

Bishop crossed his arms and shook his head as if he were speaking to a child. "It shouldn't. Back to our discussion, though. That faked alien invasion that you mentioned earlier - I had a very good reason for doing that. It secured funding that is critical to the EPF, and I've been putting that funding to good use. What if I were to tell you that another alien invasion was imminent? Would you believe me?"

Donatello pushed aside his simmering resentment and thought about that. It's not like the earth had never been invaded before. Then again, To use the same logic, it's not as though Bishop had never lied about an invasion before. "I guess I'd need to see the evidence," Don decided.

"Very good answer," Bishop praised. "And what if that evidence proved that it was true? What would your next move be?"

Donatello considered that. "I don't know. Under this scenario, given that it's you who told me about the invasion, I would hope that you would know how to handle things. My brothers and I would be on alert, though."

"Because you've come in useful during these types of events before, yes?" Bishop urged.

Donatello felt a bit flustered at the compliment. It's not often that anyone recognized the turtles' accomplishments, especially not someone like Bishop. "We've gotten lucky once or twice. Right place, right time."

Bishop raised an eyebrow. "There's no such thing as getting lucky twice. Not on that level. But back to your previous answer, you said that you would hope that I knew how to handle things?"

"Yes," Donatello confirmed.

"Well, Donatello, my job requires a lot of planning ahead. I have to think of every possible scenario, don't I? I mean the fate of the world is at stake."

Donatello gave a brief nod. "Of course. You have a lot of responsibility."

"Yes, I do, and it hasn't escaped my notice just how handy you and your brothers have been when everything is on the line - you in particular," Bishop complimented.

At this point, Donatello just wanted to cut to the chase. "That's why I'm here? You want me to work for you?"

"Yes," Bishop confirmed. "Let's just call it a temporary position for the time being. I've been picking up some deep space transmissions that my team can't quite get a handle on. I'd like your help."

"Uh, okay?" Donatello stammered, unsure what to think. Why would he be any better at this than anyone else? And why wouldn't Bishop just ask him for help, rather than kidnapping him?

Bishop moved towards the door. "If you come with me, I'll show you."

Don looked around. This seemed like a trick, but he was already being held captive. He was at Bishop's mercy, regardless. This room seemed inescapable. Maybe he'd have better luck elsewhere. "I'll go with you on one condition. You need to let me tell my brothers that I'm okay. They'll be worried."

Bishop grinned. "Of course. The last thing I need is for them to storm the gates searching for you."


	3. Chapter 3

Bishop led Donatello out of his enclosure. The interior door was locked with multiple deadbolts, and there was a guard posted on the other side, who stepped out of the way when Bishop and Don entered. There was a very short hall, which led to another door, this one locked with all sorts of advanced gadgetry. Bishop used a biometric scanner to open it, and Don followed him into a large corridor that was bustling with people.

Donatello was the unhappy recipient of a number of sidelong glances. He was never comfortable when out in the open. It went against his ninja instincts, as well as the hard-learned lessons of his childhood. To their credit, people seemed more intrigued than outraged or disgusted. Don supposed that you had to have an open mind to work at EPF, and these people certainly wouldn't be any strangers to aliens.

Bishop used another biometric scanner to open one of the many doors along the hallway. Donatello walked in and realized that he was standing in Bishop's office. Bishop began typing on a computer and a large LED display came to life.

"Have a seat anywhere you like," Bishop offered. "This will only take a minute."

Donatello sank into a chair and rubbed his forehead, still suffering from dehydration and the aftereffects of his drugging. Despite this, he kept a wary eye on Bishop.

"Here," Bishop said, pouring a glass of water from a decanter on his desk, "drink this. You must be thirsty."

Donatello frowned but gulped the water down. Then, he turned his attention to the display, which was now showing a variety of charts and graphs.

Bishop looked up from his computer. "Space may appear empty, but nothing could be further from the truth. I'm sure you know that, Donatello."

"I do," Don confirmed.

"X-rays, microwaves, radio waves, all manner of electromagnetic radiation - making sense of it all is no small task," Bishop pondered.

Donatello pinched the area between his eyes. "Enough with the exposition already," he snapped. "What's this all about?"

"This," Bishop replied, as he pointed to one small line amongst thousands of others on one of the graphs on his display.

Donatello squinted, as though that would magically make sense of what he was seeing. "What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it doesn't appear to be of natural origin." Bishop paused for dramatic effect, "And, it's moving."

"Moving?" Don repeated in disbelief. "In Earth's direction?"

"Why else would I be showing you this? It wouldn't be of much threat to earth if it was moving away from us now, would it?" Bishop smirked.

"Spare me the sarcasm. If it's not natural, it's likely capable of changing directions. But what makes you so sure that it's not natural anyway?"

"I never said that I was sure it's not natural. I said that it doesn't appear to be natural. Look at the pattern, Donatello." Bishop pecked at his keyboard and all the other lines disappeared, just as the one they were interested in stretched out. Don could see that there was an obvious pattern.

"It could still be natural, though," Don argued. If a radioactive comet is rotating, or if this signal is emanating from something in orbit around a larger body, we would see something similar."

"I know," Bishop said. "It's intriguing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Don reluctantly agreed. "Do you know where it's coming from?"

"I have an educated guess, but not a certain answer. That's part of what I want you to find out," Bishop explained.

Donatello put a hand on his chest. "Me?"

"You wanted to know why I brought you here, Donatello. This is why. This anomaly appears to be coming from near the Triceraton homeworld. My sources claim that Zanramon has regained control over the Triceraton empire and that he's out for revenge. I think that it's all tied together."

Don gasped. This was one of his worst nightmares. "How could Zanramon have regained power?! What proof do you have that this is true?!"

"Not enough, unfortunately," Bishop mourned. "Intergalactic communication is difficult, and I'm afraid that my spies were murdered shortly after transmitting their distress signal. As you know, Zanramon's methods are not kind."

Suddenly Donatello forgot his own strange circumstances. All he could think about were his alien friends. "Traximus," Donatello moaned. "Have… have you heard about him?"

"He was not one of my spies. I know nothing of his fate," Bishop explained.

Bishop then played the recording of the Triceraton distress signal for Donatello. It was horrifying but offered little detail. A prison break had been staged to free Zanramon. His loyalists poured out of every corner. Murder after murder was perpetrated in his name. A desperate soldier issued a warning to the Alliance and to the Federation. There was a massive blast, and then nothing. Donatello's blood ran cold, but he knew that this could be one of Bishop's tricks.

"I'm no longer receiving audio transmissions, but as I've already shown you, the electromagnetic signature from the Triceraton's little bit of space has been changing. You're more familiar with the Triceraton and their capabilities than anyone. This is very similar to what I saw prior to the last invasion. If they're coming again, we need to know. And who better to help me figure it out than you?"

"You suspect that they're gearing up for another invasion of Earth?!" Donatello reeled in horror. "What did you see before? Show me everything!"

Bishop smiled. He had hooked the turtle, just like he knew he would. "When he was overthrown, Zanramon was embarrassed on an intergalactic scale. Now that he's back in power, he needs to prove his superiority, to make sure that everyone fears him. It's only natural that Earth would be his first stop. This is where it all started to go wrong for him, and he knows that we are defenseless - an easy target. So, where better to reassert his dominance?"

"I… I know. I'd been afraid of this. But how do we know it's real? How do we stop it?" Don begged, his voice faltering.

"By working together. If you agree to join me, Donatello, I will put all of my resources at your disposal. I'll share all of EPF's information. I'll give you access to SETI's full capabilities. And, when we figure out what this thing is, we'll develop the tools that we need to ensure Earth's safety."

"SETI - wow," Donatello whistled. He'd been fascinated by the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence since he was a child. Of course, the search was now essentially over, since some of those 'ETs' had invaded earth. But, the thought of all of those highly-powered satellites at his disposal made his mouth water. He hadn't realized that Bishop was in control of the massive satellite array, but now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense.

"SETI," Bishop repeated, knowing that the turtle was about to fall willingly into his clutches. "So what do you say? Will you help me? I only want to protect Earth after all, but I won't force you to stay. The choice is yours."

"I… I have to talk to the guys," Donatello considered.

"Of course. We can call them right now," Bishop agreed.

"In private," Don emphasized.

"Well, that I can't do. All information into and out of Area 51 is heavily monitored, for obvious reasons."

"Can my brothers come here then?" Donatello asked, weakly.

"No," Bishop declared emphatically. "We already discussed this. They're of no use to me, and I don't trust them. The four of you together are nothing but bad news."

"Well… I…. Do you have my phone?" Donatello figured that he would need to call and explain where he was no matter what happened next - one step at a time.

"You can use one of ours," Bishop offered.

"No, it's not like that," Don explained. "The shell cells are specially designed. It's not like calling 1-800-turtles. The shell cells can only be called from other shell cells."

"I'll have it sent up," Bishop conceded. "But, we'll have to patch it into our system, otherwise the signal won't make it out of the base. There are all sorts of anti-espionage technology here to ensure that our facility is impenetrable to all manner of communications."

"Makes sense," Don agreed. "In the meantime, can you show me the readings from prior to the last invasion?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of discussion about turtle anatomy after the break. Although it's not particularly graphic, I did debate leaving it out. In the end, I figured that it was better to keep it, just so that there was some explanation as to how Bishop pulls this whole thing off. I'm not a biologist or turtle expert, so I might have some details wrong. But, these are mutant turtles. They could never exist in real life anyway, so some suspension of disbelief is required to read these things to begin with! Anyway, if it makes you squeamish, have no fears. This is the only part of the story where anything like this is mentioned.

A half an hour later, Don's shell cell was brought to Bishop's office and wired into a secured government satellite phone. By the time Donatello called home, he was totally convinced that another invasion was coming, and his mind was already whirling with potential ways to stop it.

"Don!" Leo's voice called over the phone. "Where the shell are you? We've been looking everywhere! We found darts in the sewer, and...Just tell me that you're okay!"

"Don't worry, I'm okay," Don soothed. "Believe it or not, I'm at Area 51."

"Area 51! How did you get there?!" Leonardo barked.

"Bishop," Don stated plainly.

Michelangelo's tinny voice could be heard from nearby. "Well, duh."

"More words, Brainiac," Raphael growled.

"Right. So, Bishop or one of his goons must have found me in the sewer and nailed me with a tranquilizer dart."

"Rest assured, it was one of the goons. I don't do sewers," Bishop interjected.

"A goon, then," Don continued. "A goon nabbed me and I woke up in Area 51."

"Aaaand," Raphael prodded.

"And, I hate to tell you guys this, but from what I've seen, there is reason to believe that Zanramon has regained control of the Triceraton and that they might be gearing up for another invasion of Earth! Bishop showed me data from just prior to the last invasion, and it's matching a pattern that we are seeing again now. He's asked me to help him make sense of it."

"Why would he need you for that?" Michelangelo asked. "Doesn't he have an entire team working for him?"

"But, I've actually spent time with the Triceraton. None of the EPF can say that." Donatello ran a hand down his face, considering what to say next. The subject of his intelligence had always been something of a quagmire. His brothers knew that he was smart, but Don wasn't sure that they understood how unique his mind really was, or just how valuable he could be. Don didn't know how to broach the subject without bragging, and Bishop was of no help. The silence stretched awkwardly between them.

Finally, Leo spoke up. "You were kidnapped, Don. Do you honestly mean to tell me that you're buying into this story?"

"I heard the distress calls! I saw the data with my own eyes. I'm looking at a live satellite feed right now!" Donatello exclaimed.

"Distress calls and data can be faked, Don - sooo easily. I thought you were smarter than this!" Leo chastised.

"Yeah," Raphael agreed. "You've only been gone for a day. I thought that Stockholm Syndrome took longer than that to set in!"

"Is it really so hard to believe?!" Don spouted. "Why would Zanramon just let us off the hook after we embarrassed him like that? If he's managed to regain power, of course, he's coming back to settle the grudge!"

"Bishop is lying, Don! Otherwise, he wouldn't have felt the need to kidnap you and hold you prisoner!" Raphael cried.

Bishop cleared his throat. "To be clear, Donatello is free to leave at any time. While I may have brought him here against his will, I'm not going to force him to stay. He's not a prisoner here."

"Is this true, Don?" Leo asked.

"He... did say that I could leave, but… I have a duty here, don't I?"

"You serious, Don? Cause if you are, I'm coming too. Someone's gotta watch your back, cause clearly you ain't thinking right," Raph sputtered.

"Well, that's not happening," Bishop laughed. "Donatello is my invited guest, but if I see scale or shell of the rest of you hooligans, you'll be confined to a cell."

"Tell me that you're not seriously considering staying, Donatello!" Leonardo begged.

"I… they…" Donatello stammered. "The Triceratons probed my mind. Do you know how violating that was? They kidnapped me and almost April and Casey too. They put us on a prison ship! They almost destroyed Earth! Look what they did to Honeycutt! If Zanramon is back, we're not safe! Earth isn't safe! How can I turn my back on this?!"

"If you're really free, come home," Leonardo begged. "Research this on your own. If Bishop is so desperate for your help and the threat is truly dire, he'll agree to your terms. Do not stay there, Donatello!"

"I can't give Donatello access to my resources if he's not here on-site with me. It would be a huge security threat," Bishop explained.

"He's giving me access to SETI. I'd be working as part of a team," Don said weakly. In the back of his mind, he'd always wondered what he could do if he wasn't forced to work alone and in the sewer. He could create miracles out of a pile of garbage. Imagine what he could do with nearly limitless resources. "I can't. I can't ignore this, guys. I'm sorry."

"Don!" everyone scolded at once.

"If I can disprove it, I'll be home soon. And if it's real, you'll all thank me later."

"Don!" Leo yelled. "Don't do this!"

Don turned his shell to Bishop and lowered his voice. "We all know that Bishop isn't really so bad at heart. He does care about the safety of this planet, and… we've seen what he becomes."

"He's not that guy yet. And in that future, earth was free, so clearly it wasn't invaded by the Triceraton," Leo reasoned.

"Or we stopped it!" Don cried. "I can stop this! I can!"

"There's nothing to stop!" Raphael yelled back. "Don't fall for his tricks! Use that big brain of yours."

Donatello just shook his head. It wasn't worth fighting anymore. "I'm safe. I'm going to work here for a while, but I'll call again tomorrow if I can. I love you guys." He said it calmly, then hung up the phone. After all the yelling, the silence was deafening.

oOo

Bishop personally triple-checked Donatello's scans one last time. While he had become quite familiar with the turtles' unique biology over the past few years, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong at the last minute. It was all just too good to be true - a perfect accident, just like the turtles themselves.

While Donatello and his brothers were indeed 100% male, their mutations had left them with some vestigial organs. Both male and female turtles have cloaca, which house, amongst other things, the reproductive organs. When the brothers were mutated, their male organs, while still internal, took on a far more human-like position and anatomy. However, the now-empty cloaca remained connected to their tails, which they kept hidden within their shells. Bishop didn't know why this was, but he assumed it had something to do with modesty. In his opinion, this was rather strange, considering that they walked around practically naked.

There was essentially no modification at all needed to convert the cloaca to something that could be used to nurture the embryos that Bishop had cultivated. He even had high hopes for a live birth. When the time was right, the babies should be able to exit through the tail, just as when a female turtle lays her eggs.

The pregnancy itself would need careful monitoring. Plastrons simply weren't designed to stretch, and there were various internal organs that may be in the way as the embryos grew into fetuses. Bishop was confident that he and his team could handle this. He had a fully equipped medical center at his disposal in case of an emergency. Donatello's body wouldn't know how to nurture the pregnancy on its own, but Bishop's top experts had carefully selected the hormones that would be needed and calculated how much to provide at each stage. It would be fine.

The one thing that Bishop and his team disagreed on was the number of embryos to implant. Each of them had been created through artificially producing and cultivating eggs, which carried varying amounts of genetic code from each of the four turtle brothers. Some would consider the science to be decades ahead of its time, but for someone like Bishop, it was nothing. Once the eggs were viable, Bishop used Donatello's own, naturally produced genetic material to fertilize them. He had harvested this when Donatello had been previously captured. Currently, Bishop was in possession of three viable embryos.

Bishop wanted to implant all three. In his mind, Donatello should be able to handle carrying triplets. Due to his origins, his body was wider and stockier than a human's, and he was exceedingly strong. He should be able to handle multiples without any deadly complications. Turtles carried huge clutches of eggs all the time, and according to Bishop's projections, these babies would be smaller than a human newborn. Turtles were notoriously slow-growers, after all.

Bishop's staff argued that implanting three embryos was foolish and that this first pregnancy should be considered a test run. They wanted one, maybe two implanted so that the turtle's reaction could be studied before attempting further pregnancies. But, Bishop felt they didn't see the big picture. The turtles were dangerous foes, this one in particular. But, Donatello valued life and family above all else. He wouldn't risk endangering the budding lives in his care. Therefore, a complicated pregnancy would only make him more dependent upon Bishop's care, and therefore much easier to handle. And, if Donatello suffered fatal complications, he could be kept alive artificially until the delivery. Then, there would be three new turtles to replace him - turtles raised to respect and obey Bishop's every command.

That night, as Donatello slept, his room was flooded with gas. It was a seamless transition between restless slumber and complete drug-induced sedation. Bishop's staff entered his room with a stretcher and transported him to the infirmary. He was given large dosages of anti-rejection medications, as well as the specially formulated hormones that would encourage his body to accept the pregnancy. Some minor modifications were made to his cloaca via arthroscopic surgery. Bishop's medical team then implanted all three embryos and returned Donatello to his room to continue sleeping as though nothing had ever happened.

The next morning, Donatello woke up feeling rundown, and sore in places that shouldn't be sore. He also had a bad headache that was flaring even worse than it had been the day before. Don had a little breakfast and a lot of fluids, in the hopes that it would help him to feel better. Given that he was being held captive, he was not above suspecting that something had been done to him in the night. When he took his morning shower, he examined every inch of his body but found nothing suspicious.


	5. Chapter 5

Donatello stood awkwardly at the door to his quarters. Bishop had explained that Don would be kept under guard, and housed in the apartment he originally woke up in, both for his own protection and because Bishop couldn't simply set him loose in the base. It seemed that neither of them completely trusted the other, despite their tentative alliance. While it made him suspicious, Donatello didn't have much choice in the matter. It was either agree to Bishop's terms or leave. After pitting himself against his family in order to stay, he couldn't leave now.

When the guards didn't appear of their own volition, Don knocked on the door. "Uh… Good morning? I'm ready to get started," he called.

The guards unlocked the door and greeted the turtle. After determining that he hadn't eaten any of the food stocked in the pantry, they escorted Donatello to the cafeteria.

Like a heat-seeking missile, Donatello marched straight to the coffee machine. He felt so groggy, and his headache was only making matters worse. He hoped that a caffeine boost would be the solution to some of his more minor problems. Don grabbed a cup and randomly began hitting buttons. He didn't even bother to see what type he had selected. As long as it wasn't decaf, it didn't matter. Don cocked his head when nothing happened.

"It wants you to scan your security badge."

Donatello spun on his heels, alarmed that this feminine voice clearly didn't belong to one of his guards. Don was a ninja. Normally, no one could sneak up on him. Was he really that out of sorts?

Don found that a young woman was standing next to him. She was about the same height as him, with a somewhat plump build, caramel-colored skin, and warm, chocolate-colored eyes. She had a mane of curly, brown hair, and Don couldn't help but notice a purple-streak tucked away behind one of her ears.

"Uh, thanks," Don said shyly. He suddenly realized that everyone in the cafeteria was watching him. Feeling exposed and intimidated, he turned back to the only friendly face in the room. "They haven't given me a card yet," he quietly responded.

"That's strange. We can use mine, though," the woman kindly offered. She looked at the lights that were lit on the machine. "You were after cinnamon and blueberry flavored with a quadruple shot of cream?"

"No," Don coughed. "Just black is fine."

"No need to be embarrassed. Everyone has different taste," she warmly responded.

"I hit the wrong buttons, really," Don sputtered. "I prefer my coffee black, the more caffeine the better."

The young woman smiled brightly. "Well if it's caffeine you're after, we can put some espresso shots in there."

"Yes please," Donatello swooned. The two guards standing off to the side looked at each other and shrugged as the kind stranger handed Don a steaming cup. He thanked her profusely and then realized something. "Was that free or did you have to pay?"

"Nothing is free around here. Our security badges are tied into debit accounts. That's why the machine wouldn't work for you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't have any money on me, but I can pay you back as soon as my account is set up," Don offered.

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. It's only a coffee."

"Donatello, I see that you've met Valeria," a familiar voice called. "How fortuitous."

Bishop approached the small crowd that had formed around the coffee station and cringed. "Valeria, I thought that I told you to take care of that."

Bishop was pointing to the purple streak in her hair, distaste written all across his face.

"Sorry, sir. I was going to have it dyed out last night, but I ended up working late. I think you'll be pleased to see how much progress I made, though," Valeria semi-apologized.

"I hope so," Bishop said as he turned his back and sought out an empty table. Donatello hazarded a glance at Valeria, who rolled her eyes upwards and gave a discreet shake of her head. Don couldn't help but smile at her minor act of defiance.

"Over here," Bishop waved. People sitting at the nearby tables found an excuse to scatter, apparently not wanting to be anywhere near their boss and his mutant companion. Don felt a little better with fewer people in the room. He was used to hiding in the shadows, and if his queasiness was any indication, he was suffering from a slight case of agoraphobia.

"I'm told you haven't eaten," Bishop stated. "Please grab some food and take a seat."

"Coffee is all I need," Don claimed. "Besides, I don't have a security badge, so I have no way of paying."

"Nonsense," Bishop dismissed. "I can't have your brothers accusing me of neglecting your health. Get whatever you like and tell the servers to put it on my expense account."

Don reluctantly rose. He was halfway across the room when he heard Valeria issue a whooping noise. Don swung around to see his precious coffee dripping over the side of the table, apparently having been knocked over by a large binder that Bishop had set down. Don's heart sank. He hadn't even managed a sip yet.

"My apologies," Bishop waved. "I'll get you another cup." Valeria offered a shrug and began wiping up the mess. It struck Donatello as rather odd. Bishop was hardly the clumsy type. As desperately as he wanted it, Donatello vowed not to touch the replacement cup of coffee that Bishop provided. Instead, he made a show of pushing sliced fruit around his plate.

"Allow me to formally introduce the two of you. Valeria - this is our newest asset, Donatello. He's a well-rounded genius, a mechanics and engineering prodigy, and something of an expert in physics and intergalactic travel. He's going to help us make sense of the Triceraton situation."

Donatello cringed inwardly at being referred to as an asset. He hardly expected sensitivity from Bishop, but still. It was just creepy. He pushed his displeasure aside and offered Valeria a polite nod.

"Donatello - This is Valeria, one of our newest recruits and finest young minds. It was her who first picked up on the aberrations coming from Triceraton space, and the two of you will be working together."

Valeria smiled warmly and extended her hand. "You can call me Val."

It took Donatello a moment to understand that she wanted to shake his hand. Normally humans were repulsed by him. Fortunately, he caught on before it was too late. He smiled back and shook her hand. "You can call me Don."

The rest of the day passed in typical first-day-on-the-job fashion, which was, of course, completely atypical for Don. He was given a security badge, which was tied to a debit account that had been set up for him. Apparently, he was getting paid for this job. He was provided with a small office and computer credentials. Bishop and Valeria briefed him on their findings and theories. Bishop showed him around the facility, at least to some extent. It was a lot to take in, and the day flew by. Before he knew it, the time had come to call his brothers.

Donatello was tempted to call Michelangelo, since he had appeared to be the least upset that Don had chosen to stay at Area 51. But, he didn't want to go over Leo's head, so he hit the button for the leader in blue. Much to Don's surprise the phone rang for a while, then Michelangelo answered.

"Mikey?" Donatello spouted. "Didn't I call Leo?"

"Yeah, but he's… kinda busy."

"Okay, well can you just tell him that I'm safe, and that I haven't found anything to make me doubt Bishop's sincerity?" Donatello requested.

"Can do, buckaroo. Anything else?" Michelangelo snapped. It was clear from his voice that he was annoyed.

Don hesitated. "Um, no. Is everything okay, Mikey?"

"Oh, so now you care?" Michelangelo bitterly replied.

"What do you mean? Of course, I care!" Donatello defended.

"Yeah right," Mikey dismissed. "You know how much things have sucked around here, but instead of sticking it out you abandon us the first chance you get, even if it means teaming up with one of our worst enemies!"

Donatello gulped. "Abandon you?! I didn't abandon you. I was kidnapped."

"And then chose to stay." Michelangelo was practically growling. It was so unlike him.

"It's not like that, Mikey," Donatello soothed. "I'll be back home as soon as my work here is done."

"Oh, your work?" Michelangelo parroted. "So that's what this is about. Brilliant Donnie finally gets a little recognition, so he's willing to sign a deal with the devil!"

Donatello was shocked. "Come on, Mikey," he cried. "You know me better than that. That's not what this is about at all. Now tell me what's really wrong. What's got you so worked up?"

"Must be something wrong with me, huh? Can't be you doing anything wrong!" Mikey spat.

Donatello took a calming breath. "You're mad at me?"

"Of course, I'm mad at you, dude," Michelangelo yelled. "You gave Leo and Raph even more reason to fight, and now I'm stuck here all alone with them. I'd ask if you have any idea what I'm going through, but I'm sure you do, and I'm equally sure that you don't care!"

"How could you say that?! You know that I care!" Donatello defended.

"Really?! It didn't strike you as a little suspicious that I answered instead of Leo?"

Donatello rolled his eyes but tried to make his voice sound patient. "Now you're just being silly. That's the first thing I asked."

"You didn't ask where he was," Michelangelo pointed out. "If you did, I would've told you that he and Raph beat the stuffing out of each other this morning, then Leo took off."

Donatello was horrified. "He even left his phone?"

"Yup," Michelangelo replied, popping the p for emphasis. "And, I think he might've broken his hand on Raph's face, so there's that too."

A shiver ran down Don's spine. "Where's Raph?"

"Stormed off in the opposite direction of Leo. At least he texted that he's staying at Casey's tonight. So, I know that he's not dead."

All Don could think to say was "Good grief."

"That the best you can do?" Michelangelo mocked. "It's you that they were fighting over, you know."

"Me?" Donatello blathered.

"Oh, don't act so surprised. Raph wanted to come after you, and Leo said that if you wanted to leave, we couldn't stop you. Things only got worse from there."

"Oh, Mikey," Donatello groaned. "I'm so sorry that I left you alone with all that."

Mikey gave a bitter laugh. "I hope you are. I can't hold things together here on my own. It's not fair of you to expect me to. It's not fair of you to leave me alone in this. You and I were supposed to be a team!"

Donatello's voice broke with barely restrained tears. It was true. He was abandoning his brothers at the worst possible time. "I know. It's not fair. Life's not fair. But the safety of this planet is my first priority."

Mikey twisted the knife. "Don't you mean your only priority?"

Don bit his lip to prevent himself from crying outright. He hated himself for what he was doing to his family. He ran a hand down his face. "I'll fix it. When I'm done here, I swear I'll help you fix everything. Just hold it all together as best you can until I can come home. I'm working as fast as I can. I promise."

Michelangelo sighed. "Donatello, I can't make any promises. You need to keep that in mind. I don't know what you'll be coming home to, if you can even call this place a home at all anymore."

"I get it, Mikey. I really do, and I really am sorry. I'll call same time tomorrow. I love you."

Michelangelo took a deep breath. "I love you too, bro, but love only gets you so far."


	6. Chapter 6

Donatello was indeed working as hard and fast as he possibly could, in the hopes of getting home sooner. His first task was refining the EPF's software to more accurately isolate items of interest. Since Valeria specialized in coding and astrophysical data interpretation, he delegated a lot of this to her. His second task was designing and constructing an upgrade to the SETI satellite array to make it more powerful.

Don had also asked Bishop if he could check out the communicators that his spies had used. It turned out that Bishop didn't have any specialized equipment. The spies had been sending messages to SETI using intergalactic communication systems on-board the Triceraton warships. Bishop had only ever been able to hear them. He couldn't send any communication back to them, nor could he hear anything on the old audio feeds now that the spies were presumed dead.

Bishop watched Donatello like a hawk. There were personal debriefings three times a day. Every line of code, blueprint, and acquisition request was triple checked by his higher-ups. Moreso, Bishop ensured that Donatello was in his quarters by 10 at night and that the door remained locked until 6 the next morning. He insisted that Don got a minimum of eight hours of sleep each night. To see Bishop behave in such a fatherly manner was unsettling, especially given Splinter's recent passing.

Donatello would have fought back harder, but after a week or two at Area 51, he found himself getting exhausted very easily. It was odd, because Donatello had never required much sleep. He was used to getting by on five or six hours of sleep a day, even less if he was in the middle of a project. At first, he wondered if his exhaustion was simply because he was on such a strict schedule - perhaps Bishop forcing him into his barren, electronic-free quarters was conditioning him to crave rest. Donatello began to grow more suspicious when he started noticing the return of headaches and nausea. He'd felt better for a few days immediately after settling in, but then his condition began deteriorating. One night, he had a crippling migraine that forced him into his quarters several hours early.

He chalked it up to stress. All the information at hand pointed to a new invasion. Who wouldn't be sick with fear at the mere thought of that? Never mind being burdened with the stress of having the safety of an entire planet being carried on your shoulders. On a personal level, each time Donatello called home, things seemed worse there. Only one turtle was home at any given time. Whoever answered the phone was usually mad at him and everyone else. Sometimes, no one answered at all.

It was enough to make anyone sick with worry.

oOo

Don was typing away like a madman, generating new lines of code with incredible speed. He was stunned into silence when the reflection of his favorite coworker appeared on the computer monitor.

"Oh, don't let me interrupt you!" Valeria said. "I was just admiring your typing style."

Don blushed, his green skin causing his face to turn a deep purple, rather than a reddish hue that most humans would have displayed in the same situation. Donatello had always been rather bashful, and was the only one of his brothers to have picked up this embarrassing blushing habit. It was even more embarrassing because it was Valeria that was witnessing it.

Donatello liked her in a way that was unexpected. At first, he thought it was simply that she reminded him of a younger version of April. She was smart and kind and funny, and he thought that she was cute. She was one of the youngest employees here, having been hired right out of college, but she was already considered a rising star at the EPF. Valeria was something of a loner herself, being younger and newer to the team than the others. Perhaps that's why Don felt a connection to her.

In the few weeks since their first meeting, they had already grown into something approaching friends. Most everyone else avoided Don whenever possible, and he was too shy to care. He just wanted to finish his work as quickly as possible, then go home to his family. But, he couldn't deny that Valeria had some sort of power over him. Whenever she came near, the nausea that had become a constant companion erupted into full-fledged butterflies. He got weak in the knees and his palms started sweating. He'd read about things like this, but never expected to experience anything like it himself.

It was a pity really, because he knew that he was incapable of eliciting that sort of response in someone else. Between his strange, mutated form, the social awkwardness that came from being raised in relative isolation, and his intimidatingly intelligent mind that set him apart even from his own brothers, he knew that no one could ever take a romantic interest in him. He supposed that it was at least nice to experience romantic feelings, even though they were so hopeless and one-sided.

Valeria pulled her hair half-back, proudly displaying that purple streak that Bishop hated so much. "So what's it going to be today?" Don asked.

"I was thinking of saying that I went to the salon yesterday, but that the dye hasn't taken yet," Valeria replied with a mischievous grin.

"You should leave your hair like that when he comes in for the lunchtime briefing. Tell him that the air needs to get at it for the dye to work."

"Brilliant!" Valeria bubbled. "I have to say that you arrived at a perfect time for me, Donatello. I was running low on fake excuses."

"Oh please. I'm sure you had a few in your back pocket," Donatello shot back. This was their favorite game, and the highlight of his day - helping Valeria come up with a way to avoid getting rid of her beloved purple streak.

Valeria shrugged. "I was down to claiming that my hairdresser was temporarily colorblind."

"What about saying the salon burned down?" Donatello suggested.

"Oh please, Bishop checks the news."

Donatello tapped his chin. "A lab accident caused a genetic mutation and dye no longer works on you?"

Valeria expanded on his idea. "Except the dye that was already there, of course."

"Naturally," Donatello said as he returned to his work.

"Looks like I'm good for another couple of days," she proclaimed in a singsong voice. "My hero!"

Donatello bit his lip to hide a smile as Valeria pet him on the shell. Her fleeting touch sent a rush of blood straight to his head, leaving his fingers and toes cold as his heart palpitated wildly. The butterflies in his stomach went crazy, to the point where he was sure they were fighting to get out. He gulped a mouthful of air but that only made it worse. He realized with dawning horror that he was about to vomit. There was no stopping it.

"Excuse me," Donatello yelled as he dashed out of the room and down the hall. What was wrong with him?! Was he lovesick? If so, Donatello couldn't imagine why any human would actually want to chase this feeling.

oOo

Donatello had managed to return to work after barely avoiding tossing his cookies in front of his crush. For the remainder of the day, he tried to avoid her as much as possible in order to prevent a repeat performance. Rather than returning to his desk, he went to the workshop to tinker with a scale model of the satellite modification that he was working on.

He had been working flat on his shell for a while, when he sat up quickly to reach a part that he needed. Suddenly, the room began spinning. Don gasped and grabbed his temples as he felt himself slipping back downwards. Fortunately, one of the guards caught him before his head hit the ground.

"Are you going to get sick again?" the guard asked, rather gruffly. An added indignity was that Don's guards followed him everywhere during the daylight hours, so they knew how ill he had been.

Don cracked an eye open. "No," he moaned. "Dizzy."

The guards looked at each other. "We'd better get him to his quarters," the one not holding the turtle decided.

Both guards began lifting Don, and before he realized what was happening, he had emptied the sparse contents of his stomach onto their shoes. It turned out that his assumption about not needing to vomit again had been woefully incorrect. "Sorry," Don whimpered. "'Nother migraine comin' on."

If the guards responded, Donatello never heard. He was whisked away to bed. He passed out immediately, despite the pounding in his head. A few hours later, he was woken up for dinner. He somehow forced himself to eat a slice of pizza. It was still roiling in his stomach when it came time to call home.

Don sat in front of the phone, debating which brother to call. He realized that he felt too miserable to think at all and hit a button at random. He still had his eyes shut when the ringing ceased.

"Still alive, huh?" Raph greeted.

Donnie swallowed hard. "Hey, Raph. How's it going?"

"Just peachy," Raph replied. Don could hear the sound of cars honking in the background.

"You aren't in the Lair," Don took a deep breath to calm his stomach before continuing, "... are you?"

"Nah. Got better places to be," Raph answered.

Don rubbed his temple. "Where? You somewhere safe at least?"

"Rooftop. I'm fine," Raph barked. "Are you?"

Don dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair. "Huh?"

"You sound like crap, bro," Raph said. "Your voice is all thick and you're slurring. Did Bishop do something to you?"

"No," Don answered. "Just got a headache, and feeling kind of nauseous. Had a migraine earlier and it wiped me out. Think the stress is getting to me."

"You don't say…" Raph jeered. There was silence for a moment, and then Raph sighed. "You're taking care of yourself, right? Watching your back? Not pushing yourself too hard? Getting extra rest?"

Don smiled. Despite his gruff demeanor, Raph had always looked out for Don's well-being, particularly when he was sick or overworked.

"I'm trying," Don promised. "Wish you were here to watch my back for me."

"Hey, I'd love to be there," Raph proclaimed, somewhat harshly. "But everyone has made it pretty clear that I'm not welcome in Area 51."

"Just because I can't have you here doesn't mean that I don't want you to be here. Do y'know what I mean?" Donatello sighed. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too, Brainiac. You're just about the only one around here who understands my need for space and knows when to just back off. Leo is behaving like a mother and father combined, and Mikey seems to have made it his mission in life to get everyone laughing again," Raphael grumbled.

"Go easy on'em," Don slurred. "The way you take off makes everyone nervous. They're only trying to keep everyone together."

"If they'd just back off a little, maybe I'd want to stay home more often. Feels like they're always trying to crawl up into my shell with me."

Don chuckled. "That's gross, Raph." When he ceased his chortling, Don realized that the jiggling movement of his stomach had done him in. He dropped the phone on the desk, grabbed a nearby trash can and barfed.

Raph's voice could be heard from the earpiece. "Speaking of gross…"

When Don was finished, he picked up the phone again. "Oh, I am so miserable," he moaned. "Sorry you had to hear that."

"Don't be sorry," Raphael insisted. "Just promise me that you're being careful. You being this sick is real suspicious to me. Are you sure that Bishop didn't cause this, somehow?"

"I'm never sure of anything," Don replied. "But, I really don't think it's got anything to do with him. I'm not sleeping very well. If these guys were up to something, I think I'd know it."

"They could be slipping stuff into your food, you know."

"To what end?" Don asked. "Why would they want to make me sick? They need me for this project, Raph. Plus, they seem concerned. They took some blood from me when I first got sick, then again this afternoon. They've been forcing me to rest and eat right. Why would they be doing that if they didn't want me better?"

"I don't know," Raph confessed. "It just seems weird to me. What did they say when they took your blood?"

"That it was a common stomach virus."

"Then why aren't you better? It's been over a week."

"I probably got something else before I kicked the first bug," Don guessed.

"Likely story," Raph scoffed.

"It is," Don insisted. "We've been isolated for most of our lives. We don't have much immunity to common viruses. I'm being exposed to a ton of new people. I'm probably picking up stuff all the time, and my body doesn't know how to fight everything off. Plus, I might be having a hard time recovering, given all the stress I've been under."

"And, for all we know, you never totally went back to normal after being hit with the Outbreak Virus," Raphael pointed out.

"Ug, you have to bring that up?" Don complained.

"Yes," Raphael barked. "I do. Because that was Bishop. That's who you're in league with, here." Raph paused before finishing. "Watch your back, Don.

oOo

Bishop was practically giddy with excitement. He'd had blood drawn from Donatello upon his arrival, then again when the turtle first started showing obvious symptoms of pregnancy. A third sample had been drawn earlier today.

The levels of each hormone that Bishop's team was monitoring were skyrocketing - progesterone, relaxin, human chorionic gonadotropin, even estrogen. Bishop had been slipping these hormones to the unwitting turtle in his daily coffee. It had been a simple matter of programming the machine to recognize Donatello's ID card and slip him a special blend. Given that caffeine was best avoided in pregnancy, Bishop had also programmed the machine to only give the brilliant turtle decaf.

What was amazing to Bishop was that the levels of each hormone were steadily rising, and they were all at the proper ratios. This meant that Don's body had figured out what to do with them. They weren't simply passing straight through him. The pregnancy had taken.

Bishop wondered how long it would be before the turtle realized what was going on. He was dying to have an ultrasound run on Donatello, but now that he was positive the turtle was pregnant, he didn't want to drug him or knock him out again. That wouldn't be good for the embryos. Instead, Bishop decided to wait until Don figured things out on his own, then tell him everything and run as many tests as he could think up. Given how sick and emotional Donatello had been, he didn't think that it would take the genius much longer to begin asking questions


	7. Chapter 7

Each day Donatello got sicker and sicker. He was shaky and nauseous all day, every day. He was perpetually exhausted, even though he had started going to bed right after dinner. His appetite was ravenous, but he couldn’t keep anything down for longer than an hour or two. He got headaches that quickly escalated to migraines if he wasn’t careful. He was having a difficult time controlling his emotions and was barely able to hold himself together during his phone calls to his family. There were no signs of improvement, and it was really starting to worry him. He was beginning to realize that there had to be more to this than stress and a series of illnesses. Something was seriously wrong with him. 

Up until now, he had suffered in relative silence, doing everything that he could to hide the worst of his symptoms from Bishop and his team. They knew that he was sick, but he didn’t want them to see just how much he was struggling. Everyone already saw him as a freak, he didn’t want them thinking that he was weak as well. Around midday on an otherwise normal Thursday, Donatello realized that he wasn’t going to win this battle. 

He’d finally hit his breaking point. It felt like he hadn’t slept in days. His stomach problems had kept him up all night. He had been getting migraines every afternoon without fail that week, and he could sense another one coming on. He had no energy whatsoever. He couldn’t even eat anymore. His lunch should’ve been fine. It was only a tuna fish sandwich. Still, it sat like lead in his stomach. 

The smell of the cafeteria was overpowering him, and he had been so famished that he had eaten quickly, which should’ve had the added bonus of getting him out of there sooner. Unfortunately, one of Bishop’s aides had sucked him into a conversation that he couldn’t escape. The longer the meaningless conversation droned on, the worse the cafeteria seemed to smell, and the harder that damn sandwich tried to claw its way back out of his stomach. Eventually, Don threw a hand against his mouth and took off at a sprint, barely making it to the bathroom in time. 

The retching continued long past the point where his stomach had emptied. By the time it was done, his eyes were watering uncontrollably, and his legs had turned to jelly beneath him. He was covered from head to toe in a thin sheen of sweat. Don was splashing water on his face when Bishop appeared over his shoulder. 

“Donatello, I heard that you still aren’t feeling well.”

Bishop was the last person that Donatello wanted to be dealing with right now. The ailing turtle leaned heavily on the sink and grimaced, his face radiating his irritation as he considered his next words. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Bishop was impossible to read. “Have the symptoms changed since the last time we spoke?”

“Not really,” Donatello answered honestly. His hands began to clench into fists. “Everything just keeps getting worse.”

“Really?” Bishop said, raising an eyebrow. 

Donatello pivoted around. “Really,” he yelled. “What did you do to me, Bishop?!” 

“Me?” Bishop purred, innocently. 

“Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?!” Donatello roared. 

Bishop laughed at that, and it upset Donatello’s cramping stomach even more, but what Bishop said next turned Don’s blood to ice in his veins. “Now, now. If I thought that you were an idiot, you wouldn’t be here, and certainly not in this condition.”

“This condition? What the shell did you do to me?!” Donatello repeated.

Bishop hadn’t intended to spill the beans so early, but Donatello was smart. He’d figure things out on his own soon enough, and the stress of wondering what was wrong in the meantime wouldn’t be good for his subject, or the offspring he unknowingly carried. “Calm down, Donatello. Follow me and I’ll tell you everything.”

Don hesitated before heaving his sluggish body off of the sink and trudging after Bishop with leaden feet. “Where are we going?” he growled. 

“To an exam room. It’ll be best if you see things for yourself.”

Donatello simmered with resentment for the entirety of the short walk. He wanted to yell some more, but he also didn’t feel like talking. Frankly, he didn’t have the energy to, and Bishop was correct that words were meaningless anyway.

As they walked, Don’s mind began trying to put the pieces together. What could Bishop need to show him? And, why did this need to be done in an exam room? Then there were his symptoms - hunger, nausea, fatigue, and, what about the childhood development book that he found in his room? The denial set in even as the truth was dawning on him. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t even possible. He was a male. Something so drastic couldn’t be done without him knowing about it. No. 

Bishop gestured for Don to lay back, as he rolled over an ultrasound machine. Don was sure he would vomit again. 

No!

Bishop gave Donatello a look that was meant to exude sympathy but instead had the effect of making the normally pacifistic turtle want to punch him right in his smug mouth. “Don’t panic, Donatello. You’re not sick. Your symptoms are just a side effect of something else.”

Don bit his quivering lower lip as Bishop squirted cold gel on his belly and moved the wand into position. No, no, no!

Bishop looked up to Donatello’s face, which had practically gone white. “By the looks of things you’ve figured it out on your own. You always were a clever one, Donatello.”

Bishop turned back to the machine in concentration. It was far more sensitive and powerful than a normal ultrasound, but it was having trouble penetrating Donatello’s still-thick plastron. The hormones that Bishop had been hiding in the turtle’s coffee had begun to soften and relax it, but it was still early. These things took time. 

Donatello intended to shout, but his voice came out pathetic and broken instead. “Why?”

“Why, what? Why did I do this to you?”

Don cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Well, it’s simple really. You’re useful, perhaps the most useful being on this planet. You’re stronger and smarter than any human alive. You have a mild, dare I say even pleasant personality - the perfect soldier. There needs to be more like you. I need to have more like you.” Bishop smiled as he finally found a spot thin enough for the ultrasound to penetrate. He began fiddling with the settings as he continued talking. “I already had all of the information on your biology and genetic makeup leftover from when you were laid up with the outbreak virus. And, as you know, I had plenty of technology and expertise related to cloning and bioengineering.”

Bishop was quiet for a few moments as he concentrated, and Donatello found himself to have gone mute. He was so paralyzed with shock and fear that he literally couldn’t speak. Bishop had just enough empathy to realize this and make a tone def attempt to comfort him. “It’s not as though you’d ever be able to reproduce on your own. And, it would be such a waste if your genetic line simply ended with you, wouldn’t it?”

“What about consent?” Don whispered brokenly. “What you did, you…”

“I did something that will help the world, Donatello. And while I didn’t seek your consent, it’s my job to protect this planet by any means necessary. As much as it pains me to say it, that’s something that you and your brothers have excelled at. Sometimes my decisions are difficult, but this wasn’t one of them. I did what needed to be done, and I didn’t get your consent because it simply didn’t matter. This is for the greater good,”

There were so many questions, but Bishop lit up like a Christmas tree, making them all fall away. Don had never seen him like this. “Look!” He said excitedly. “There they are! All three took!”

“Three?” Don choked in terror and disbelief. “Three!”

“Yes,” Bishop confirmed, as he pointed to the display. “See? They look to be developing perfectly. That’s the thing about internal gestation. It’s just so much more successful than attempting to grow them in a cold, lifeless machine. And, in this case, the mutagen in your system was needed to keep the embryos viable. Try though I may, I simply couldn’t replicate the equilibrium that naturally exists within that mutated body of yours.”

“But, how?” Don managed to whimper. 

“I’ve had the embryos on ice for quite some time,” Bishop answered. “That part was easy, really. I had plenty of biological samples from you and your brothers on hand from our previous encounters. Surely you don’t think that you managed to destroy all of them, did you?”

Don didn’t answer that, so Bishop continued. “The embryos are a mix of all of you four. They aren't true clones. But, they’re mostly you, Donatello. It’s you that I want them to take after. I want you to train them to help me protect Earth, but I also want you to think of them as your own children. Similar to the set-up that you had with your own so-called father.”

Bishop removed the wand, and Don robotically moved a hand to his belly. He shouldn’t be able to have biological children, never mind bear them himself. It was too much to absorb, and being reminded of Master Splinter nearly caused Donatello to lose his composure entirely. If only his father were here right now. Don didn’t dare speak at all, for fear of breaking down. 

“I expect this to play out more or less like a human pregnancy,” Bishop continued to explain. “I was able to modify some of your internal organs and create an ideal place for your children to grow within you. We will have to continue to manipulate your body chemistry with hormones, and I’m sure that this experience… Well, it won’t be entirely pleasant for you. But, with careful monitoring, you and your offspring will be just fine.”

Bishop droned on and on about how he had created the embryos, what hormones he was administering, how he expected the pregnancy to progress, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The part of Don’s brain that made him a genius took in every word verbatim for later processing. The part of Don’s brain that made him a living, feeling being, the same part that rendered him mute in terror, kept repeating the same thing: I can’t do this. It can’t be real. I can’t do this. It can’t be real. 

It repeated over and over, like a bizarro version of the little engine that could. It continued through the end of the exam, and the walk back to his room. It continued as he cried himself to sleep, and on through his troubled dreams. He couldn’t do it. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t do it. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t do it.


	8. Chapter 8

Donatello awoke to the sound of his own screaming, several hours after returning to his quarters. He’d been shocked awake by a nightmare about a small army of Bishop clones ripping their way out of his guts. Trembling in panic, he lifted the blankets to check that his plastron was still flat, which of course it was. That same voice of denial and disbelief was still running through his head.

Don knew that he had to shake it off. He told himself that he could do it. He had to do it, as he wasn’t being given any choice in the matter. Donatello was capable of doing pretty much anything, and as much as he didn’t like to brag, he was more than aware that despite the many obstacles that life had thrown at him, nothing had ruined him yet. So, he did one of the things that he did best - he started putting together a plan.

First item on the list was calming the hell down. He’d only been here for about a month. If Bishop’s calculations were to be believed, it would be another seven or eight months until the babies were ready to be born. There was plenty of time to get things figured out. Panicking about his situation and doing something careless out of fear wasn’t going to help him. 

Don hadn’t eaten since the ‘incident’ at yesterday’s lunch, and he was starving and nauseous. He sat down with a box of saltines to think. Bishop had explained all about how the embryos had been created, and Don didn’t have any reason to think that he was lying. Bishop could be a monster at times, but he had been blunt and straightforward yesterday. 

As much as Donatello was horrified by what had been done to him, and as unprepared as he was for what lay ahead, he had to keep in mind that his wasn’t the only innocent life being affected by all this. His natural inclination was to feel violated, and to think of the embryos as unwanted parasites. He told himself that he had to stop that line of thinking before it even began. The budding lives that he carried within him were created from his own genetic material and that of his brothers. That made them family. That meant that he had to protect them. 

Strange as all of this was, the idea of having children was actually rather nice. Don had never dared hope for a family of his own, but it was more because it seemed impossible than because he didn’t want it. Of course, he was young, and he never would have chosen this particular pathway to fatherhood, but this was the hand that fate had apparently dealt him. If he was destined to be a father, he would do everything that he could for his children. 

He put a hand thoughtfully on his plastron. “Okay, well, I guess I’m not alone in all this,” he said out loud. That was kind of a nice thought, and it actually made him feel a little bit better. He had been very lonely. If he was being honest with himself, that loneliness began even prior to his kidnapping. He had been lonely ever since his father died.

If there was one thing that Donatello was sure of, it was that he didn’t want to stay at Area 51 anymore. He hadn’t tried to escape yet, because he foolishly believed Bishop that the project he was working on was important. Maybe it really was, he had no way of knowing. However, it was clear that if Bishop went to these lengths to secretly impregnate him immediately upon his arrival, that must have been his true plan from the start. Anything that had happened since then was likely just diversion and subterfuge. Clearly, Bishop wanted to keep the babies for himself. He wouldn’t let them go willingly, and given how manipulative and emotionless Bishop was, Don knew that a child could never have any sort of life here.

So Donatello had to get out while he still could. Sneaking himself and three babies out of Area 51 would be exceedingly difficult, so it was best to get going before they were born. Given the physical toll that this pregnancy was already taking on him, it was safe to assume that the longer he waited, the harder the escape would be. So, he needed to begin planning now. Fortunately, Don had already gotten a jump on this. Bishop had been careless enough to involve him in a project that required coding. Everything that he did was double checked, to ensure that there were no signs of sabotage. However, Donatello was smarter than just about anyone. As he had reassured himself earlier, there was time. One way or another, he was going to escape. 

Don stayed in his quarters all day, thinking and planning. All the stress had given him another migraine, and he was curled up on the sofa when there was a knock on the door. The knock had only been ceremonious, as Bishop strode in immediately afterward. Don hissed at the light pouring into the darkened room and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. 

“Donatello,” Bishop greeted in a too-loud voice. 

“Go ‘way,” Don responded, curling up tighter. 

“You’re slurring,” Bishop observed. “Do you have another migraine?”

In response, Don opened one eye halfway and did his best to glare. He knew that Bishop didn’t care at all about how much he was suffering. 

“It’s probably because you haven’t eaten since yesterday,” Bishop guessed. Don would have pointed out the nearby, half-eaten box of crackers, but he didn’t have the energy. 

“I’m afraid that I can’t offer you any painkillers,” Bishop continued. “We aren’t sure how that would affect your offspring. But, I think that you would feel better if you perked up and had a bit to eat.” 

It was clearly the advice of someone who had never experienced a true migraine. Don stubbornly stayed put and did not acknowledge anything that Bishop had said. 

“Come on,” Bishop growled. “We need to get your daily hormone dosage into you, and you can’t skip your phone call with your brother’s two days in a row. They’ll get suspicious.”

“S’picous?” Donatello slurred. “They’re already s’picious. I’m the only one dumb enough to trust you.”

Somewhere deep in his cold heart, Bishop was rather touched at that. He’d never admit it to anyone of course. “You’re not dumb,” Bishop argued. “We both know that. You just look for the best in people. It’s not so much dumb as… naive.”

Don made an indiscernible noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan. It was heartbroken and pathetic, but also mildly threatening; something that a deeply wounded but still fearsome wild animal might make. Bishop had never heard anything quite like it before. 

“You need to take the hormones or you could lose the babies. If you refuse to take them, I’ll be forced to restrain you and inject them,” Bishop explained. “So what’ll it be?”

Don uncoiled a trembling arm, which had been tightly wrapped around his middle. He reached out towards Bishop. “Give’em to me.”

“You need to sit up. They’re dissolved in this cup of coffee.”

Don groaned and sat up as slowly as he could. The movement made him dizzy and terribly nauseous. Once he was fairly confident that he wasn’t going to puke, he reached for the cup. 

“Don’t worry, it’s decaf,” Bishop promised. “And you only need to keep it down for ten minutes or so for the hormones to fully absorb.”

Don winced, but he was actually happy to hear all of that. Being tricked into drinking decaf for a month was a real kick in the teeth, but at least he was being told the truth now. 

Bishop sat on the coffee table in silence for a few minutes while Donatello drank. The turtle’s eyes were still squeezed shut, and he was trembling all over. “You need to eat something,” Bishop advised. “You can’t skip meals in your condition.”

“Not gonna keep it down anyway,” Don muttered. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Bishop replied. “You just need to get it into you. Otherwise, I’ll have to tube feed you.”

“It’s not like I’m vomiting on purpose,” Don hissed. “I’m sick as hell.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that. Hopefully, you will feel better as your body begins to adjust.”

Don huffed. But, he was secretly a little impressed that Bishop had actually apologized. 

“Is there any food that you think your stomach could handle? Just say the word and I’ll ask the kitchen to prepare it and send it up,” Bishop offered. 

“Crackers are fine,” Don mumbled. He’d been reading up on the best foods to eat for morning sickness. Crackers and pretzels were high on the list, and the apartment kitchen was already stocked with them. 

Bishop got up and brought the half-eaten box of saltines over to Donatello. “Eat some then. You need to recover enough to call your brothers.”

Don cringed, but he ate a cracker. He hoped that getting some food into his stomach would at least help with the nausea and shakiness. 

Donatello finished his cup of hormone-laden coffee and set it down. He nibbled on a few more crackers. 

“Can I take this to mean that you don’t wish them any harm?” Bishop asked after a while. 

“Hmm?” Donatello hummed. Some of his brain fog was lifting, but he still didn’t understand Bishop’s inquiry. 

“You’re taking the hormones and eating properly. Shall I take that to mean that you won’t try to harm the embryos while they are in your care?” Bishop clarified. 

Don looked Bishop in the eyes. “I would never willfully harm them,” Don said as firmly as possible. He truly did mean it, and he wanted Bishop to know that. However this had happened, and as weird as this all was, these tiny, helpless, and innocent lives had been entrusted to him, and Don had already sworn to himself that he would protect them at all costs - even from their creator. 

“Would you?” Don asked, pointedly. 

“Would I what?” Bishop stammered. 

“Would you harm them?” Don asked, speaking slowly so as not to slur. “What are your plans for them?”

“I wouldn’t harm them,” Bishop balked. “Why would I create them only to harm them?”

“I dunno. Dunno why you do anything. Don’t want to know why. Just want an answer.”

“Well, I told you the answer is no. They’re very valuable to me. And, to answer the other part of your question, my plans for them are largely dependent upon the decisions that you make.”

“How?” Don asked, unable to speak any more. 

“Our goals are the same, really,” Bishop mused. “Protection of this planet. You can raise and parent them as you see fit, as long as I approve the overall regimen, and they are available if they are ever needed for a greater purpose.”

Don was shocked at that. “So I r’lly am free to go?”

Bishop chuckled obnoxiously. “No. But if it’s any comfort, you were never free. That’s the only thing that I’ve outright lied to you about. I’m surprised that you believed me to begin with.”

Don furrowed his brow. “Well, you said it yourself; I’m naive.”

“Yes,” Bishop agreed, much to Don’s disdain. “And it was naive of you to ever have any illusion of freedom in the first place. You’ve never been free, Donatello. You lived your life trapped in the sewers. That’s about the most unpleasant prison imaginable if you ask me.”

“It was a home,” Don insisted. 

“And, this could be too,” Bishop declared. “You’re valued here. Your offspring will be too. These quarters are private. You can have a loving family if you want. The food is plentiful. You’ve already started making friends. You and your young will have a better life here than the world out there could ever offer you.”

Something dawned on the genius turtle. He looked to the empty room. Bishop noticed the turtle’s gaze. “The nursery,” he said. “You can furnish it however you like.”

“Just nothing that uses electricity,” Don choked out. “And, I can never see my brothers.”

“I never said that you can’t ever see them. They just can’t come here. You could visit though, with your children, if you like. You just need to agree to certain measures first.”

“Great,” Donatello groaned, rubbing his aching head. “And speakin’ of my brothers, guess I should make that call.”

“What do you plan to tell them?” Bishop asked. 

“You mean you’re not giving me a script?” Don asked. 

Bishop smiled. “No. Tell them whatever you like. The truth will have to come out eventually.”

“Truth? I wanna know tha truth. Was the Triceraton threat ever real?” Don wondered. 

“Of course. It’s very real. And, I want you on this project so that you will see all the good that you can do. This is why we need you, Donatello, and why we need more like you.” 

Don made a low noise in his throat. Then, he carefully rose to his feet and stumbled after Bishop to the communication room. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he did know who he was going to call - the brother least likely to make his migraine worse. 

“Leo,” Don practically gasped, when the phone stopped ringing. The sound was echoing in his skull. 

“Don! We’ve been so worried about you. Why didn’t you call last night?”

“Got wrapped up in something,” Don replied. He realized that he was too exhausted and emotionally spent to do any more serious talking tonight. 

“Are you okay?” Leo asked. 

“Yeah,” Don lied. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Leo answered. 

“Everyone else too?” Don asked. 

“Yeah. Everything is good, Don. We’ve been fighting a lot, so we decided to call a truce. We got some pizza and had a movie night.”

Don smiled and rested his aching head on his arm. He was happy to hear that the fighting between his brothers had finally stopped. “Whad’ya watch?”

“Some dumb action movie that Mikey And Raph wanted to see. You would’ve hated it.” Leo chuckled. “I missed hearing all of the snarky comments you would have made.”

“Tell me about it,” Don requested, tiredly. 

“That would be hard, given that there was no plot,” Leo laughed. “Picture cheap special effects, muscle-bound men shooting at each other, unrealistically fast cars, explosions, and half-dressed women. That’s pretty much all it was.”

“Tell me anyway,” Don begged. “I’m exhausted and I miss you guys. Some dumb movie sounds like heaven right now.”

“Alright. Well, it was set in Los Angeles, where modest clothing is apparently frowned upon. I believe that the main character’s name was Pinhead McImissedlegday.”

Don closed his eyes and let Leo’s soothing voice lull him to sleep right there in the communication room. 

Later, Don was woken by the guards, who returned him to his quarters. He actually slept pretty well that night. He was emotionally exhausted and physically depleted. His body essentially gave out on him. 

He spent the weekend recovering from shock and coming to terms with his situation. He was going to be a dad. Wasn’t that something?


	9. Chapter 9

Before reporting for work on Monday morning, Donatello stopped at the cafeteria and picked up some toast with ginger jam and peppermint tea to go. He brought them back to his workstation and began eating them very slowly. He’d read that they might help with the morning sickness, but staying out of the cafeteria was essential. The smells were just too much. 

After an hour, Valeria entered their shared office. “Donatello! You’re back!”

Don’s head shot up. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would have been missed. “I am,” he confirmed. “Sorry for flaking out on you. I promise to work extra hard today to make up for it.”

Valeria shrugged off her coat and hung it up on one of the hooks. “Relax, Don. I’m your coworker, not your boss. How are you feeling? I heard that you barfed in the cafeteria, then got into a fight with Bishop.”

“I didn’t barf in the cafeteria,” Don clarified. “I made it to the bathroom.”

“So the part about arguing with Bishop is true?” Valeria smiled at him as she took her seat. “That’s the part that I found harder to believe.”

“Good to know that you can picture me losing my lunch in a public place so easily,” a chagrined Donatello pouted. “But yes, I got into it with Bishop a little.”

“About what?” Valeria prodded. 

Don shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Bishop had assured him that no one outside of the guards and the medical staff knew about his condition. It would fall to him to tell the others if he chose too. He wasn’t prepared to say anything until he spoke to his family. “Just… personal stuff,” he deflected. 

Valeria put her hands up. “Sorry, sorry, none of my business. You’re feeling better, though?” 

“I am feeling better. And, don’t worry; I’m not contagious,” Don promised. 

Valeria smiled warmly. “I wasn’t worried about catching your virus. I just missed you. It’s too quiet around here without you.”

Butterflies fluttered through Don’s stomach. He took a sip of tea to calm himself. “I can bring one of my scale models up here… make some noise.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Valeria looked him in the eyes. “I missed having you around. It hasn’t been easy for me to make friends, especially not around here.”

“Really?” Don blurted. He found Valeria so vibrant and charming. Who wouldn’t want to be her friend?

“Really. When I was younger, I was more into books than playing with the other kids. I had a couple of friends, but then my parents realized how smart I was. I started getting skipped ahead. Then I was the youngest person in class. And after my parents died, I was the poor little orphan that everyone felt sorry for. Now I’m the new girl with the weird hair, and I’m right back to being the youngest person in the room.”

“Your hair’s not weird. It’s cool,” Don announced. “Besides, I doubt that you’re younger than me,” he added, softly. 

“I admit, I have no idea how old you are,” Valeria said. “You’re a hard read, Donatello.”

“I’m nineteen,” Don confessed. He didn’t think about age much. There was no way to know when his specific birthday was, or even his mutation day. So, he didn’t celebrate the passing of years in quite the same way as a human. But, he was nineteen- nineteen, orphaned, virtually imprisoned, and expecting triplets. Quite a mess he’d found himself in. 

“I’m twenty.” Valeria smiled. “So, I guess you win this round. You seemed older to me.”

That was a comforting thought. Don sure as heck felt older, especially lately. “No. I’m only nineteen,” Don reiterated. “And if anything, turtles being as long-lived as they are, I might be considered younger in human terms.”

“You’re a turtle?!” Valeria practically shouted. 

Don reared back, his head reminding him of the migraine he had only recently recovered from. “Yeah, I’m a mutated turtle. What the heck did you think I was?”

“An alien,” Valeria said bluntly. 

Don twisted his shoulders to show off his back. “The shell didn’t tip you off?”

Valeria laughed. “This is Area 51, Don.” 

Don laughed too. Aliens were par for the course here, and who’s to say they wouldn’t have shells. “Touché.”

Funny that they hadn’t discussed even the most basic of stuff. Don felt rather close to Valeria, but they hadn’t really had any prolonged conversations about their personal lives. Don found himself longing to do just that. Just like he had needed Leo’s familiar voice to lull him to sleep the other night, he needed Val to provide him with a distraction right now - something to focus on other than his life falling apart and the stress of his work. 

Valeria must have picked up on his willingness to chat for a while because she leaned back in her desk chair. “So, if you started off as a turtle, how did you get like this?” she asked. 

“My brothers, father and I were exposed to mutagenic ooze,” Don explained. 

Valeria raised her eyebrows. “From the Utroms?”

“Yes. So, you’ve heard of them?”

“Sure have,” Valeria replied. “And, you have brothers and a dad?”

“Yes. Well, brothers anyway. Sad to say that I’m an orphan too. My dad… he passed away a few months back,” Don explained. 

Valeria’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Don. How’d he go?”

“Cancer,” was Don’s blunt response. 

“That sucks.” 

“It does, but he had a long life for a rat,” Don mused. “According to him, it was his time to go.”

“My parents weren’t so lucky,” Valeria said, sadly. “They were killed during the Triceraton invasion. That’s what brought me here. I wanted to find some sort of justice for them, to prevent this from happening to anyone else.”

“That’s noble, Valeria. A loss like that would tear most people apart. I should know. Seems that it only made you work harder.”

“You and I are the same,” Valeria observed. “I’ve seen how hard you’re working, even when you’re obviously sick.”

“I just want to finish this job and get home,” Don replied. “It’s not a great time for me to be separated from my family, with the death of my dad being so fresh. We’re all struggling.”

“At the rate you’re working at, we’ll be done before you know it,” Valeria predicted. 

“I hope so.” Don sighed. “My brothers and I only have each other now. We have to stick together.”

“Why can’t they come here?” Valeria asked. “If they’re anything like you, I’m sure Bishop could put them to good use.” She had no idea that Don had been kidnapped and was now being held against his will. 

Don chuckled bitterly. “Bishop made it pretty clear that they aren’t welcome. He kind of hates us.”

“But he seems to like you,” Valeria pointed out. 

Don frowned. “I don’t think that he likes me. He just finds me useful.”

“You are useful,” Valeria said. “Why wouldn’t they be?” 

“My brothers and I are almost identical, physically. But we are very different when it comes to our demeanors and intellectual pursuits.”

“I see,” Valeria hummed. 

Don gave her a sad smile. “So I can relate to what you said about your intelligence making you feel isolated when you were growing up. I went through a similar struggle. It was easy to push aside when we were little, but as we got older I began to feel more and more… different; like my family and I didn’t fit in with anyone, and in turn, I didn’t really fit in with them. Most of my interests and hobbies just weren’t the same as my brothers’, and I spent a lot of my time in the lab, apart from them. Now that we’ve gone out into the world more and more, it’s turned out that some of the skills that I’ve developed are rather useful, and I’m afraid that they think it makes me feel like I’m better than them or something. Honestly, nothing could be further from the truth. I just need to be near them again so they can see that they’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

Another wave of nausea hit Don, and he took a few bites of toast to head it off. “And what about you?” he asked after he swallowed. “Do you have any remaining family?”

“No one that I’m close too. My mom was a free spirit - an artist. She kind of rebelled against her family when she was younger. They’re all pretty uptight. We moved around a lot when I was growing up, and never really set down roots, you know? They’re in my life, but I don’t visit them often; pretty much only around the holidays. There’s just not much of a connection there.”

Don nodded. “I get it. What about your dad?”

“He immigrated from Senegal to the US when he was a young man. He always spoke fondly of his homeland, and it really inspired my mother’s art. I keep in touch with his family over there, but we’ve never met in person. I admit that I’d love to go someday. Not just to meet them, but to see where my Dad grew up.”

“You should go. Traveling is good for the soul,” Donatello advised, before taking another sip of tea. 

“What’s up with the tea, Don?” Valeria smirked. “I thought you were a coffee drinker.”

“Trying to soothe my stomach,” Don answered. “But, don’t change the subject. Are you going to go?”

“Maybe, if I can get the time off.”

“Oh, come on. You’re twenty years old and acting like you’re forty. Just do it already. No better time than when you’re young,” Don urged. 

“You’re probably right. Maybe I’m putting it off because I’m a little scared that it will hurt, seeing everything and everyone my dad told me about, but not being able to share it with him,” Valeria reasoned. 

Donatello hummed in sympathy. Valeria’s eyes had grown sad. It was the first time he’d seen her like that, looking so vulnerable. He dared to reach out and touch her wrist. Much to his surprise and delight, she didn’t flinch. She only looked at him and smiled. 

“Look at us,” Don chuckled. “Couple of misplaced kids taking on the Triceraton empire. So tell me, how did Bishop find you anyway?”

“He recruited me while I was in college. I’d never even heard of EPF, but they seemed like a perfect fit for me, so I said why not? These government agencies like to get you young. I guess you know that, though.”

“Yeah,” Don chuckled. She didn’t know how right she was. 

“Thanks for making me feel better. I guess I’m not the youngest person around here after all, and certainly not the smartest.”

Don’s spirit lifted to hear that she thought of him as a person. Not everyone did. “I wouldn't be so quick to assume that you’re not the smartest. Believe me, I do some pretty stupid things.”

“Well, maybe you could tell me about them over lunch,” Valeria offered. “We’ve been chit-chatting for a while now, and I have some stuff to catch you up on.”

Don’s stomach turned at the thought of lunch and the mixed scents of the cafeteria. He grabbed for his tea, but the paper cup was empty. He took a bite of toast and swallowed hard.

“You sure you’re okay?” Valeria asked. “You’re looking a little pale, I think.”

Don put a hand on his belly, hoping to calm it. “Yeah, I’m a little better, at least. Turns out that this is something of a chronic issue, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Valeria was obviously not convinced. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Don said before taking a hard swallow. “Let’s just try to work past it. So anyway, I was doing some work in the shop a few days ago, and I think that I figured out how to tap into the Triceraton communication system using the same networking glitch that Bishop’s spies had taken advantage of. We need to look at the archived SETI data and trace the distress signals back to their points of origin. That should give us some idea of where the ships were a month or two ago. I need to re-jigger the current satellite array to do that, but if all goes well I think that we can begin listening in on their intra-fleet communication as early as next week. I’ll need your help with the coding if we are to meet that deadline, though. I have to focus on-“

Don abruptly put a hand over his mouth and made a mad dash for the bathroom. 

“This is not how I would define ‘feeling okay,’” Valeria yelled in his wake.


	10. Chapter 10

It took Donatello and Valeria five days to hack into the Triceraton ship-to-ship communication network. It was an outdated old audio network designed for long-range communication, that was now mostly used for small-talk and gossip. Important plans, orders, and information were sent from the homeworld and flagships using different, highly secure methods that Donatello knew nothing about. 

Still, the little information that they obtained was enough to confirm Don’s worst fears. Zanramon was indeed back in power. While that was discouraging news, it was unclear whether the Triceraton were headed to earth. Bishop immediately organized a team that would listen into the Triceraton communications at all times. They were bound to hear something useful in the idle chit-chat eventually. 

Don’s work was far from done, though. Right now, he didn’t know where the ships were, or where they were headed. He did have an idea for figuring out how to track them. It involved creating a catalog of the ships, and timing how long it took for the communication to travel back and forth between them. Given how far away the ships were, and the fact that they were moving targets, it would be a tricky job. Elimination of background noise and proper triangulation would be key. 

But, Don had other things to worry about as well. He continued to get sicker, and weaker. In spite of this, he was doing his best to exercise, train, and stay in shape. There was no dojo in Area 51, and he had no weapon, but he did as much as he could with what he had. 

He ate diligently, even though he knew that nothing would stay down for long. He took his hormones and prenatal vitamins every day. He avoided sushi and coffee, even though they were his favorite foods. Instead, he ate only things on the healthy list. He read as much as he could, about both human and turtle development. He also called his brothers every night. He spoke to them each on a rotating basis. 

They had been fighting again. Because of this, Donatello just couldn’t bring himself to tell them about his condition. He knew that it would only make the fighting worse. Furthermore, he was embarrassed that he’d gotten himself into this mess. It felt like lying by omission, but he told himself that he’d be breaking out soon enough, and that they would handle the news better if he told them in person.

Don had committed the childhood development book to memory. He’d been avoiding Bishop at all costs, but he did bite the bullet and email a request for additional books about pregnancy and fetal development. 

He knew that his children wouldn’t develop in the same way as human babies, and he knew that his body wouldn’t react the same as a human female’s. He was fascinated by the progression from zygote to embryo to fetus, but couldn’t stand to look at the pictures of pregnant women. He simply couldn’t bear to think of himself in that way. The thought of becoming a father was much easier for him to handle than the fact that he was pregnant. It shook him to his very core. 

Don wasn’t sure if he would visibly swell up like the women in the pictures. He hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t. His frame was wider than most humans, and baby turtles are smaller than baby humans. He hoped that maybe he wouldn’t get too big. But, luck hadn’t been on Don’s side lately, so he could only assume that he’d end up absolutely huge. He knew that he wanted to get out of Area 51 before his pregnancy was visibly obvious, but there was no telling how long he had. 

Don’s current task was launching some new satellites that could better track the Triceraton communication signals. He and Valeria were designing the satellites’ operating software themselves. He was also going to program the satellites to set him free. 

He got creative in his programming. An extra character here and there, an occasional superfluous line of code that he could easily explain away - bit by bit, it would all come together. The little bits and pieces that he worked into his coding over the course of a few months would tell the satellites to send April and his brothers an electronic message outlining an exact meeting place and time. That was the easy part, but it was also the last part that would be complete.

The hard part was creating the execution program that would lead to his escape and hiding it within the satellites’ code. Using the same programming that he was designing for operating the satellites, he would have to somehow turn off certain portions of the security system that operated on the Area 51 base itself. He had to deactivate specific cameras and set up dummy feeds, program locks to open at just the right moment, and disable motion sensors and alarms. Don had to find a way to allow this code, that was supposed to be merely controlling a series of satellites, to infiltrate the base’s security systems like a virus. But, he had to do it in a way that nobody would notice until it was too late, and he had to do it little by little. If it was more than a few characters at a time, he would surely be noticed. His work had to be completely flawless, and it had to work perfectly the first time. There couldn’t be any test runs, and he wouldn’t get a second chance if anything went wrong.

It required a tremendous amount of work, planning, and foresight. It also required time. Don had allowed himself two months to work on the satellites and their code. Maybe he could’ve done it a bit faster, but that could’ve led to mistakes. Plus, he had to factor in how ill and tired he was feeling. He simply wasn’t on his A-game. It felt like a race against the clock. He really didn’t want to have a visible belly when he was reunited with his brothers. They would need time to adjust to the idea of having babies in the family. If everything went according to plan, he’d be rescued at about three months gestation. Following the rules of human pregnancies, he shouldn’t be showing at three months along, but given that it was triplets, he knew that he might be pushing it.

And man, was it ever clear that he was carrying triplets. The illness and exhaustion were constant and severe. Despite a history of going without sleep, sometimes for days at a time, Don suddenly couldn’t keep his eyes open. He fell asleep at his workstation in the middle of the day at least a couple of times a week. At home, it might’ve been funny, but here it was just embarrassing. Valeria and Bishop’s guards encouraged him to rest, but they didn’t know that he was under a self-imposed deadline. He wasn’t allowed electronics in his quarters, so he had to work in the main area, narcolepsy problem or not.

Then there was the nausea. At this point, it was constant. He found himself running to the bathroom on an hourly basis, which may just have been more embarrassing than his Sleeping Beauty routine. Bishop had taken to hovering over him, almost as though he felt guilty. But, Don knew that he wasn’t capable of any such emotion. 

One afternoon, as Don was dragging himself out of the bathroom, looking and feeling like death warmed over, Bishop met him in the hallway.

“Donatello,” he said by way of greeting. “I take it that you’re not feeling any better today?”

“How’d you guess?” Don grimaced.

“Look at the bright side. All these symptoms are just indicators that the pregnancy is healthy and viable. Your body is reacting just as it should.”

Donatello was in no mood to be talked down to. “Did you have a reason for coming here?”

“I did. My assistants tell me that your project is coming along nicely. I wanted to thank you.”

“No problem,” Don answered sarcastically. He had nothing but problems. 

“Also, You should be about two months along now. I was hoping that you would consent to another ultrasound.”

“Do I have any choice?”

Bishop laughed. “No, actually, but I was hoping that you would consent.”

Don rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Bishop led Don to the exam room, feeling the need to make banal small talk the entire time. Don did his best to ignore it. He was shaky on his feet, which Bishop seemed to notice. He put a hand on Don’s shell, and Don bit back the urge to shake it off. Bishop continued with his condescension as he fired up the ultrasound machine. “I'm sorry that you're feeling so unwell. I really am. Just rest assured that this is all for the greater good. You're doing a wonderful thing, Donatello.”

After applying the gel, Bishop found that the ultrasound penetrated Don’s plastron much more quickly than before. “The hormones are doing their job. Your plastron is really beginning to soften up,” he observed.

Don had also noticed this. His plastron was cartilage, rather than bone. It had never been rock-solid, to begin with, but it had been feeling softer lately. There was no visible difference yet, but it did feel different to the touch. He had really been hoping that there wouldn’t be any outward indication of his condition. His softening plastron didn’t bode well for that though. 

“There they are,” Bishop said as he pointed, pulling Donatello out of his reverie. 

“Wow,” Don couldn’t help but exclaim. “They’ve grown.” The last time he saw them, his babies were barely discernible dots. Now, after another month of development, they looked like little beans. On Bishop’s high-resolution machine, he could even make out tiny arms and legs. Don was awestruck. 

“See that?” Bishop asked, indicating a flickering on one of the fetuses. 

“The heartbeat,” Don said in wonder. 

“Yes, all three look nice and strong.” Bishop hit a button on the keyboard and the air was filled with a rhythmic thumping. Don tried to ignore that Bishop was in the room, and savor the moment. 

Even though this wasn’t a path he would have chosen, and even though he was sick as a dog, he still recognized a miracle when he saw one. Furthermore, it had been a month since he had learned of his condition, and now that the shock and terror had worn off, he found himself getting attached. Maybe it was just because he was lonely, maybe it was because of the hormones, or because they were a part of the family that he missed so much, but he was falling in love with his babies. 

Listening to their heartbeats, for the first time in a long time, Donatello felt at peace. He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at Bishop. 

“Is that a smile?” Bishop asked. 

What an obnoxious thing to say. Way to ruin the moment, Don thought. His only response was to roll his eyes. 

“I’ve never been able to get them past this stage,” Bishop mused. “But these guys look ready to go the distance.”

“What?!” Don hissed.

“They look good,” Bishop answered. “Strong heartbeats are an excellent indicator of long-term viability.”

“No, I meant the other part. Are you saying that you’ve tried this before?” Don barked. 

Bishop grimaced. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Yes,” he admitted. “It would have been far easier for me not to involve you in person, after all.”

“What?!” Donatello snapped. 

“I would have preferred to gestate the embryos in an artificial womb. You are a pretty big security threat, after all,” Bishop pointed out. 

“But you couldn’t do it?” Don inquired. 

“No,” Bishop admitted. “They kept dying. I think that the mutagen in your system is necessary to provide the proper equilibrium for growth.”

“How many?” Don growled. “How many times did you try?”

“A few,” Bishop answered. He could see that the turtle was practically shaking with anger. “But, that’s over now. This system is clearly working much better.”

“How many of my babies did you kill?” Don yelled. 

“Your babies? They’re not yours, Donatello. They were always mine.”

“No,” Don growled, placing a protective hand over his gel-covered belly. “They’re mine.”

“Let’s just call them ours,” Bishop offered. “You can raise them. I’ve already told you that.”

“Tell me how many you killed!” Don yelled. 

“None. They died on their own. I wanted them,” Bishop argued. 

“Just answer me!” Don insisted. 

“Nine. I had enough genetic material to create a dozen - the nine that died, and the three that you’re carrying now,” Bishop explained. 

Don choked out a sob. “Nine! What did you do with them?”

Bishop’s demeanor was cold and emotionless. “I disposed of them, of course. They were inviable.”

Don’s body shook with rage and grief. 

“Calm down, Donatello. They never even had heartbeats,” Bishop attempted to comfort. 

Don looked at the screen, the little hearts beating inside of him. He loved them so much already. He couldn’t help but grieve for their siblings he would never meet. 

“Promise me you won’t do it again,” Don ordered. 

“Why would I do it again if it won’t work?” Bishop wondered. “Next time, I’ll involve you from the start.”

“Next time?” Don repeated. 

“The next time I create a batch. I’ll need more of your genetic material of course, and I’m fresh out of samples from your brothers. It will be much easier to do this now that you’re a willing participant.”

“I’m not!” Don scoffed. “And there will be no next time!”

“Of course there will. Do you really think that three will be enough?” Bishop argued. “I’m trying to build an elite team of soldiers, here.”

“My brothers and I were always plenty,” Don disagreed. 

“But if these experiments are successful, why not continue?” Bishop pondered. “It’s for the good of Planet Earth after all.”

“So are you implying that you intend to keep putting me through this? Over and over?” Donatello balked. “My body is barely holding up as it is!” 

“One of your brothers could step in if you should become incapacitated, or even one of your children, when they come of age,” Bishop plotted. 

“No! We’re not experiments or mindless drones. We may look different, but at heart, we’re people. We have free will and aspirations of our own. You can’t just use us like breeding stock! I won’t let you!” Don hollered passionately. 

“Donatello, I thought that we were in agreement,” Bishop reasoned. “Isn’t that why you decided to cooperate?”

“I’m cooperating because of the importance of the Triceraton project, and because you won’t let me leave this place,” Don snapped. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to allow myself or my children to become your pawns.”

“We’ll just have to see how this attempt goes. We’ll decide upon the rest later,” Bishop attempted to compromise. 

Donatello realized that arguing was futile. This latest development only reinforced the importance of getting out of Area 51. 

Don looked at the precious heartbeats flickering on the monitor. He was in a tough spot for sure. Once he broke out, he wouldn’t have any medical care. Say what you will about Bishop, he seemed to care about the well-being of Donatello’s babies. Then, there was the Triceraton project. Don couldn’t leave until he was sure there was no threat to earth. He decided to back down for now. 

“Okay,” Don muttered. “As long as you promise not to do anything else without my consent.”

“Seems fair,” Bishop agreed. He then extended his hand. 

Don reluctantly shook it. Much to Don’s surprise, Bishop then printed out a picture of the babies and handed it to Donatello. Don ran a finger over the image, the tender feeling returning. He was doing this for them.


	11. Chapter 11

Donatello doubled up his efforts to track the Triceraton spaceships, but he was running himself ragged. Given how sick the cafeteria made him, he took to working through lunch. Instead, he munched on crackers and cereal throughout the day. His energy level was dipping to an all-time low. All of his physical resources were devoted to nurturing the budding lives within him. All of his mental resources were devoted to tracking Triceraton movements and developing his escape plans. He worked between 14 and 16 hours day, and was still passing out at his desk on a routine basis. 

Valeria returned from her lunch break to find Donatello snoozing on his keyboard yet again. “Donatello,” she called in a singsong voice. 

The turtle stirred but didn’t wake. “Don-a-tellll-ooo,” she purred, playfully. 

“Mmmm. Valeria, I bet you taste like a mocha latte with a sweet, caramel swirl,” he moaned, apparently still asleep. 

“What?!” Valeria barked in surprise, louder than she intended to. 

Don’s eyes popped open. “What?!” he blurted. He then snapped upright. “Oh, my head!” He frantically massaged his temples. 

“Sorry for the harsh awakening,” Valeria apologized. “I think that you were talking in your sleep, and you said something really weird.”

“Oh, sorry. I guess I was dreaming. I’ve been having some crazy ones lately.” The flush on Don’s cheeks told Valeria that he remembered exactly what he’d been dreaming about. She felt a light flush rising in her own cheeks. 

Don was beyond embarrassed. He didn’t even want to think about what he might have said. He did genuinely like Valeria, but it wasn’t like him to have these passionate urges. Over the past month, he had realized that the more animalistic side of his attraction to Valeria was partially the result of the foreign hormones coursing through his body. He could control his behavior while he was awake, but he had just been presented with a very good reason to stop nodding off in their shared office. 

“I brought you lunch,” Valeria announced, hoping to quell some of the awkwardness. “A turtle cannot live on crackers alone.” She placed a paper bowl in front of him. 

Don opened the lid, and the enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup filled the air. “Thank you. This looks delicious.” No wonder he liked her. 

“Good for sensitive stomachs, and you can put your crackers right in it,” Valeria suggested. 

“Thanks. You are so thoughtful,” Don gushed as he took his first spoonful. 

“We’ve been working hard. And since neither of us is of legal drinking age,” Valeria said. 

“Soup it is,” Don finished the thought. He had another spoonful. “Let me tell you about the breakthrough that I had before I nodded off.”

oOo

Don was thoroughly exhausted again when the time came to phone his brothers. It was a Raph night. He was rather grateful for that, as Raph was generally the least talkative. All Don wanted to do was curl up in his bed. 

“Hey Raphie,” Don yawned. 

“Hey Don-Don,” Raph chuckled. 

Don blinked in confusion. “Don-Don?”

“You just called me Raphie, so I figured we were using childhood nicknames,” Raphael gently teased. 

“I did?” Don muttered before yawning again. 

“Sorry. Am I keeping you awake?” Raph pouted. “Nice to hear that you’re geared up for our call.”

“I am,” Don defended. “I’m just exhausted.”

“Well, at least you’re not barfing or slurring,” Raph chuckled. 

“Yeah. Let’s call it a win,” Don suggested. “So, how are you? How are things at home?”

“I am fine, and things at home suck,” Raph declared. 

“So, same old, same old?” Don assessed. 

“You could say that,” Raphael answered. 

Don sighed. It looked like he could kiss that early bedtime goodbye. “Go ahead and get it out of your system. I’ll listen.”

“Okay. So Leo wanted to patrol today, right? And we came across this group of Purple Dragons that were about to break into a jewelry store. So you’d think that Leo would want to stop them, right?”

“Mmm,” Don put in. 

Raph kept talking. “So I start heading towards them, and Leo asks where I was going. And I was like, ‘to stop the theft, stupid.’ And Leo is like ‘what theft?’ And I’m like ‘that one happening right in front of us.’ Then Leo says it’s not a theft until they actually break in, so we can’t stop them until they go ahead and make a move. And I’m like - ‘that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. There needs to be actual property damage or someone needs to get hurt first?! Since when?’ Leo starts spouting something about Bushido that no one cares about. Anyway, things are getting heated between Leo and I, when suddenly we hear glass breaking. So surely now we can go, right?”

“Right,” Don agreed. 

“Wrong. Because then we realize that Mikey is gone. And of course my first thought is that he went after the Dragons, so I start heading in that direction. And Leo is like - ‘oh no you don’t.’”

“What?” Don exclaimed. 

“Exactly. So Leo is like ‘Oh no you don’t. Just because you would’ve run mindlessly into a fight doesn’t mean Mikey would’ve.’ Leo then says that Mikey probably got pissed that we were fighting again and took off. And I’m like ‘why do you think that?’ And Leo is like, ‘let’s just call his shell cell,’ but the little stinker doesn’t pick up. Then Leo turns the tracker on and it shows that Mikey is a few blocks away.”

“Nifty,” Don commented. 

“Right?! So we ignore the break-in and go to get Mikey. We find him hiding behind a water tower like a damn child. And I don’t know if he’s mad because we were fighting again or in some sort of trouble or what. So just when I’m about to chew him out for not answering his phone, he’s like, ‘you found me. Now it’s your turn to seek.’ Naturally, this makes me want to clobber him, but it’s Leo that steps in and starts yelling about how Mikey can’t run off like that, and how he’s irresponsible and childish. And, Mikey starts yelling that he can’t take Leo and I fighting anymore. Why can’t we just play ninja hide and seek and have fun like the good old days?”

“Oh jeez,” Don remarked, to show that he was still listening. 

“And I said, ‘what good old days?’ I mean, were things ever good? Sure, maybe life sucked less at one point, but it was never what I would have considered good.”

Don wanted to disagree, but he knew that Raphael just needed to unload. This is why Raph liked talking to Don. He didn’t argue. He just listened. Still, this was hard for Don to hear. He’d been struggling with this too lately - this question of whether a good life was even possible for him and his children. He’d always thought that he was happy and that his brothers were too. Maybe it was the hormones making him overemotional, but Don wondered now if that feeling of happiness and fulfillment had been an illusion all along.

All he could do was put in brief comments and try not to cry, while Raph continued to vent about yet another fight, and how awful everything was. 

Don really needed to get home, while he still had a home to go back to. He knew that the news of his pregnancy might destroy it entirely, but maybe his family would rally around him. Maybe having babies to nurture and play with would be just what the doctor ordered. At least, that was what Don told himself to lull his exhausted body and soul to sleep at night. 

oOo

Donatello ran a finger along the streamlined curves of the satellite that he had spent the last month designing. He had supervised the construction, but the build team had done most of the work. This was his last time seeing it before it would be launched into space and then deployed into earth’s orbit. A second one would soon follow, to aid with triangulating the signals that were originating in Triceraton space. 

But, it was this first satellite that Don was planting all of his hopes in. This was the satellite that carried his special secret coding. After it was deployed and activated, it would send an encrypted message to his brothers, telling them when and where to meet him. The message wasn’t detailed. He couldn’t have put much more into the email without making the code more complex and giving himself away. He would ask a few pointed questions during his daily phone calls to ensure that his brothers knew what was going on. 

It would take a few days for the satellite to reach its desired orbit, and be fully deployed. It would send out the email almost immediately after startup. Then, Don would have a three-day wait to allow time for his brothers to prepare themselves and make the drive to Area 51.

At precisely 4 PM on the following Tuesday, the remainder of the hidden coding would begin to do its work. The fire door at the rear of Valeria and Don’s office would be unlocked and the alarm would be disabled. The guards normally stayed posted outside the main entrance, so they wouldn’t notice Don slipping out the back. The security camera nearest the office would go offline, and the security guard’s display would show an empty hallway. Don’s path would continue from there, down specific halls and through specific doors that would unlock just as he reached them. Finally, he would reach the main gate and run to freedom. His brothers should be pulling up to the gates at just the right moment…. he hoped. 

Don pet the glimmering metal of the satellite. “I’m counting on you, buddy,” he told it. “We all are.” It was more than just his freedom at stake, after all. His children’s futures were riding on this as well. Don thoughtfully placed a hand over his belly, feeling a paternal sense of protectiveness that was becoming more and more familiar to him. 

Had he done everything right? Would the code work as expected? Were his ninja skills still up to par? Would his brothers make it to the meeting point? Only time would tell. Tomorrow the satellite would be headed into space, and everything would be out of his control. 

Valeria unexpectedly entered the room and snapped Don out of his reverie. He dropped the hand that had been cradling his midsection and swung around to look at his friend. Valeria whistled in admiration of the satellite. “She’s a beauty.”

”She is,” Don agreed, turning back to consider his handiwork. “The build team did a great job.”

“So did you. Not bad for a first-timer.”

“Not bad at all,” Don said hopefully.

oOo

That night, Don was stretched out on the sofa, reading a book on theoretical physics and snickering to himself as he made marginal corrections. It was almost 9 PM, which was later than he had stayed up in weeks. He stretched and let out a huge yawn, absent-mindedly cupping his softening lower plastron with his free hand. Startled, he set the book aside and looked down to confirm what he was feeling. 

It was rounded!

Sure, it was a barely perceptible bump, and no one other than him would look twice, but it was definitely there. A lot of it had to do with his position and the fact that he had been snacking all night. Nevertheless, Don still knew that it meant his days of a flat belly were inevitably drawing to a close. 

He didn’t know how to feel. This was something he had been dreading, and he was hoping to hold out longer. However, some part of him was happy to see and feel progress. This meant that in spite of how sick he had been, his children were still growing. A smile touched his face and he gently moved his hand around his abdomen. 

“Hey,” he whispered, almost bashfully. “Hey, guys.”

The following week was amongst the most stressful of Don’s young life. He was constantly worried that something might go wrong during his breakout attempt - the code not working right or his family not showing up. Additionally, he realized that he had made a major oversight. To sustain this pregnancy outside of the base, he would need to continue with the hormone treatments. They were specially formulated, and while Don may be able to reproduce them, it would take time that he didn’t have. If he went off of the medications, even just for a few days, his body would reject the babies. Don needed to find the hormones and steal them. 

The problem was that he didn’t know where the hormones were stored. Not only that, but his coding had been designed to allow a specific, perfectly timed path out of Area 51. There was no room to deviate once the sequence began. He would have to somehow steal the hormones beforehand. 

Don’s belly continued to pop. Although it was still tiny, he was beginning to notice cramping that he assumed amounted to growing pains. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. 

Be it because of stress, loneliness, or growing affection, Don had begun talking to his babies when he was alone. He assumed that his living quarters were under surveillance, so he didn’t speak much, nor did he say anything about his plans. He simply drew comfort from occasionally chatting with them. 

Right now, he was pacing the room like the nervous wreck that he was, brainstorming ways that he could steal the hormones. His back was hurting, but he was too anxious to sit. 

Finally, Don stopped in his tracks and allowed some of the stress to flow out of him. A smile lit his face, and he pet his middle, lovingly. “What do you guys think? Do we have a plan?” 

Of course, the babies offered no response. Don perked up anyway. “What’s that? You want to celebrate with a pint of ice cream? Well, who am I to argue with that?”


	12. Chapter 12

The day before the scheduled breakout, Donatello approached Bishop, one hand on his midsection for dramatic effect. “Bishop,” Don grunted. 

“Donatello.” Bishop looked at Don’s belly almost greedily. It gave Don the shivers. “How can I help you?”

“I haven’t been feeling well,” Don said bluntly. 

“I know. My staff tells me that your symptoms still aren’t letting up.”

“That’s true, but I’m used to that,” Don replied. “This is something else, like a cramping. I’m worried about the babies.”

Bishop tilted his head. “It’s probably just from the stretching, but let’s get you checked out.” 

Bishop, Don, and his guards began the trek from Bishop’s office to the exam room. When they reached the final set of security doors, Bishop nodded to the guards. They backed off and stood at the end of the hall. They normally did this during exams, to give Donatello the illusion of privacy. 

Donatello’s eyes scanned the hallway as he and Bishop approached the exam room. It would be logical if the hormones were nearby. This was essentially a research and development building. It had no need for a full medical center. Don was pretty much the center of attention right now, and he was certainly the only one in need of these particular medications. They had to be around here somewhere. 

There was a single, unmarked closet in the hall. That almost had to be the place. The fact that it was unmarked was a dead giveaway. 

Bishop led Don to the exam room, but when he turned to collect the gel, Don quickly reached behind the ultrasound machine and switched two of the wires into different slots. Don didn’t know which wires they were. It really didn’t matter. The switch only took a second, and Bishop didn’t seem to notice. He turned the machine on, only for it to short out and immediately power down. 

Don suppressed a snicker when Bishop flipped the power switch again. Why did people always seem to think that would work? “Do you want me to take a look at it?” Don offered. “I’m kind of an expert with machines, as you know.”

“Fine. Have at it,” Bishop said. 

Don removed the outer shell of the machine and hummed thoughtfully as he looked at the internal components. He removed a bracing pin and tucked it behind one thick finger. He then frayed the power line and used it to burn a corner of the circuit board. “Look at this,” he said to Bishop. “It’s just a frayed wire and a bit of board damage. Do you have a computer repair kit around here?” 

“I’m sure we could dig one up,” Bishop said. “Let me call in someone from maintenance.”

“I can make the repair,” Don quickly offered. “It should only take me a couple of minutes, and I’m anxious to get this done and check on the babies. The fix might be as simple as a little well-placed electrical tape. You’ve got to at least have that laying around, right?”

“Okay,” Bishop agreed. He did look a little suspicious, but he began rooting through drawers while keeping one eye on Don. For his part, Don sat innocently on the exam table, keeping one hand on his stomach. 

“There’s nothing here,” Bishop said. “But we can check the closet. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Come on.”

Don hopped off the table and followed obediently. Once they were in the closet, Don stood back and gave it a quick visual scan. There was a single, locked refrigerator. When Bishop wasn’t looking, Don used the pin from the ultrasound machine to pick the lock. But, he didn’t open it right away, since Bishop was due to look back at any time.

After Bishop peeked at Don, then returned to picking through drawers, Don silently shot forward and opened the fridge. Dead center was a box marked “Donatello.” Don quickly popped it open. Rows of small ampules were inside. The first several rows were empty and uncapped, but the rest were still sealed. Don grabbed the box, hid it behind his shell, stepped back, and pushed the fridge door closed with his foot. 

His heart was pounding. These had to be the hormones, but he needed to be able to sneak them out. Furthermore, the guards had been delivering his hormone dosages and prenatal vitamins in the early evening, when he was least sick. If today's dose was still in the fridge, he would need to put something in its place to fool the guards. No one could know that the hormones were stolen until after Don was free. Otherwise, he risked being found out. 

But, Don didn’t have time to look at the contents of the box right now. Bishop was right there, keeping a close eye on him. 

“Can I help you look?” Don asked, intentionally drawing attention to himself. 

“Go ahead,” Bishop agreed. “Try that shelving unit.”

Don sidestepped to the shelves that Bishop had indicated, which were right next to the area that Bishop was searching. Don chose a spot that was partially blocked from Bishop’s view, brought the ampule case out from behind his shell, and opened it. He pulled up the first capped vial. It had tomorrow’s date on it. The guards must have already taken today’s dose out and brought it to the kitchen for storage. It wasn’t unusual for them to bring it to him in a cup of peppermint tea, to keep his stomach calm. 

Don breathed a sigh of relief. This meant that no one would be looking for the hormones until the next afternoon. Still, anyone who opened the fridge would notice that the ampule case was missing. Don pulled the case’s outer shell apart from the inner section. He waited for Bishop to look over, once his captor turned back around, Don snuck the empty case back into the fridge and re-locked it. 

Don then returned to the shelf that he was working on. He found a box of various cords and wires for connecting computers and lab equipment. It was exactly what he needed. Don snuck the ampules into a cardboard box of screws. “I think that I’ve got something to work with here,” he told Bishop. I’ll just need to borrow a scalpel or some scissors when we get back to the exam room, but I’m sure you have that laying around, right?”

“I do,” Bishop confirmed. He then led Donatello back to the exam room. Don made quick work of undoing the damage he had done to the ultrasound machine. He then set the box of spare parts and hormones aside as though it didn’t matter to him at all. 

Don turned the machine on and hopped up onto the exam table. “Let’s give her a whirl,” he suggested. 

Bishop squirted gel onto Don’s plastron and readied the wand. He raised his eyebrows as the image came to life. “Eureka,” Bishop exclaimed. “Now, show me again where the pain is.”

Don indicated the middle of his abdomen. Bishop moved the wand around, while Donatello considered what to do next. He winced occasionally for good measure. 

“I don’t see anything unusual. Now that your stomach is beginning to bulge, you're probably just experiencing growing pains,” Bishop declared. “Let’s see how the little ones are doing.”

Bishop moved the wand and found them in no time. They were the size of limes now, and given Don’s softening plastron and slightly swollen belly, the task of locating them was much easier than before. Bishop did a thorough exam that left Don completely captivated. 

The turtle was having last-minute jitters, to be sure. As awful as Bishop could be, he was certainly being careful to keep Don and the babies healthy. Once Don was free, he would be on his own, with no medical care. Sure, he could put together an ultrasound machine, but it would take weeks, if not months. This would be the last time that he saw the babies for a while. If something went wrong, he would have to diagnose and treat himself or come crawling back to Area 51, where he and his young would undoubtedly end up in a much more secure cell, with far fewer privileges. 

There was also fear about the birth itself. Don didn’t know how to prepare. Bishop thought that a natural birth might be possible, but it was by no means a guarantee. If Don needed surgery, he didn’t know who would do it. Leatherhead or Professor Hunnicut might have been good candidates, but neither of them lived on earth anymore. 

Don would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He pushed his fears aside and reinforced his resolve that he and his children had to get out now. He requested a printed picture from Bishop. Then, he put it on top of the box that contained the hormones. He knew it would be suspicious if he tried to sneak the box out, and he knew that the guards would search it if he took it back to his room. So, he didn’t try to hide anything. 

“Would it be okay if I brought some of this stuff to the workshop?” Don requested. “I damaged a part of my scale model yesterday, and I’d like to get it back up and running as soon as possible.”

Bishop took a quick look at the box’s contents: cords, wires, connectors, screws. “Sure,” he approved. “Just ensure that it gets put back when you’re done.”

Don brought the box to his workshop. His guards accompanied him, but they took posts outside the door, as usual. There was a small fridge in the shop, which was used to store volatile chemicals. Don ensured that everything was tightly sealed. He grabbed a styrofoam container that had contained yesterday’s lunch and put the hormone ampules inside. He then put the container into the fridge. He was as ready as he would ever be. 

Don spent the remainder of the evening finishing up odds and ends around the office. He planned to keep working on his projects remotely, even after his breakout. But, it was best to get as much done as he could while he was still here. There was a lot to do. Now that the satellites were in position, he and Valeria had tons of data to crunch. Don also had to get moving on the next phase of the project, which was figuring out where the Triceraton ships were heading, and how to stop them if they were coming back to earth. 

He had a few thoughts about what he wanted to do, but working from home would be a lot harder. He planned to design a tracking and protection system, then send his designs to Bishop for construction. He was pretty sure that Bishop would go along with that, given that the safety of planet earth was everyone’s top priority. 

Bishop wouldn’t just let Don get away either, particularly not when he was carrying such precious cargo. Don had a plan that he hoped would keep him safe after his escape. It involved blackmail, though. He needed to hack into a few more files tonight, while his security clearance was still in place. Don was pretty sure that Bishop would revoke it as soon as he was free. 

Don was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands when Valeria found him. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look like you ought to call it a night.”

Don was tired, very much so, but there was too much that he needed to do in his last few hours here. He slowly lifted his head and let his hands fall to the desk, directing his blood-shot eyes to Valeria. “Does it ever all just… get to be too much for you?” he wondered. 

“I see what’s going on,” Valeria announced. “You’re stressed out. You jumped straight from satellite prep to defensive strategies without taking so much as a day off in between.” Valeria put a hand on the troubled turtle’s shoulder. “So, this is what a stressed turtle looks like.”

Don was going to argue but the truth was that Valeria was right. She may be wrong about the reason, but her conclusion was certainly correct. “Stressed to the max,” Donatello sighed. 

“You should turn in early tonight. Have a nice relaxing evening. Until I’m done crunching the latest batch of data, there’s nothing left for you to do around here anyway.”

The funny thing was that no matter how stressed and exhausted he was, the last thing Donatello wanted to do was turn in early. He knew that his nerves would run wild if he had nothing to focus on. When he took too long formulating a response, Valeria added, “Or, I could drag you out.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Donatello automatically replied. 

Valeria wriggled her fingers around her face. “Oh, look who’s Mr. Tough Guy now. Well sir, I will have you know that I am scrappy.”

“Scrappy, you say? Well, I’m a fully trained ninja so the smart money is on me, lady.”

“Oh there’s that old Donatello spark,” Valeria teased. “All it took was a threat and the promise of violence.”

“I don’t like violence,” Donatello countered. “I guess that threat that you leveled against me just… took my mind off things for a moment.”

“Yup. You’re a stressed turtle alright,” Valeria declared. “Let’s pack it in here and play hooky.”

“You mean together?” Donatello balked. 

“Why not? Do you have a better offer?”

“No. It’s just that I can’t leave this building,” Donatello deflected. 

“Stress eating in the cafeteria?” Valeria suggested. 

Donatello’s stomach was already churning enough with his usual nausea, the nerves of tonight’s importance, and now the prospects of hanging out with his crush. He was on the verge of tossing his cookies as it was - the thought of all those cafeteria smells mixing together was too much. He took a deep swallow “mm-mm,” he choked out through a closed mouth. 

“That just leaves your place,” Valeria deduced. Donatello was too dumbstruck to argue right away. “I have to admit that I’ve been curious about what the on-campus housing looks like.”

Don was shocked that Valeria would want to be alone with him outside of work, but he couldn’t think of a better way to spend what would hopefully be his last night at Area 51. “I guess that would be okay,” he choked out. “My quarters are pretty barren, though.”

“Guess it’ll be a short tour, then,” Valeria said as she opened the door. 

Don stretched, then rose from his seat before leading Valeria down the hall. The guards gave them a strange look when he showed her to his quarters and closed the door behind them. Don got a kick out of that. 

He gave Valeria the ten-cent tour. There really wasn’t much to see. 

“Wow, Don,” Valeria mused. “This is like something out of the 1800s. I mean, where did they find an ice chest? Is there an ice chest manufacturer still in operation somewhere?”

“Thrift store, probably,” Don guessed. “And did you get a load of the lights?”

Valeria looked up to the ceiling where the strange shuttered light-holes were housed. “They couldn’t even trust you with a light bulb? I mean, what could you possibly do with a light bulb?”

Don shrugged. “A lot of things, probably. Admittedly, nothing comes to mind at the moment.”

Valeria looked into the empty room, the one that Bishop had intended to be a nursery. “What’s this room supposed to be?”

“Just extra space. I’ve been using it to exercise.” It was a half-truth. Don did use it to train as much as he could. Otherwise, it did just sit there, unused. 

“Gotta keep those ninja skills up,” Valeria teased. 

“That’s right,” Don assured her, fully aware that she was making gentle fun of him. Valeria had never seen him in action. He had told her some stories, but she liked to pretend that they were exaggerations. 

“So what do you do around here after hours?” she asked. 

“Read, plan, and sleep,” Don replied. 

“And train,” Valeria corrected. “Sooo much ninja training in that empty room.”

“My skills would blow your mind,” Don playfully bragged. He realized too late how suggestive it must have sounded, particularly given that they were alone in his apartment. 

“We’ll just have to see about that,” Valeria shot back. 

Don didn’t know what to make of that, but he found the breath leaving his body. The effect was amplified when she positioned her full lips right next to his ear. 

“I know what you have planned for tomorrow,” she whispered. 

“Wha-what?” Don babbled. 

“I know,” she repeated, in a low voice. “I double check all of your coding, remember?”

Don fell into a barely-suppressed panic. He should’ve known that she’d catch him. He’d even considered telling her about his plans, but he was never completely sure that she could be trusted. Furthermore, he was afraid that it was too dangerous - not only for him but for her too. What now? Would she do something to stop him?

“You’re a prisoner here, aren’t you?” Valeria whispered. “That’s why you didn’t go home to see your brothers after the satellites were launched.” 

Don had never said outright that he was a prisoner, and in all this time, no one had asked. The story was that the guards were there for his protection. Don had never said anything to deny this, just as he had stayed tight-lipped about his forced pregnancy. 

Don realized that Valeria was whispering so that they wouldn’t be overheard. Maybe she was on his side. His heart rate slowed a little. “Yes,” he whispered back. “And I really need to get home.”

Valeria pulled back. “I know,” she said. “I can see that now. I just wish you would’ve told me.” Valeria cast her eyes around the room. More and more lately, she had suspected that her sweet friend wasn’t here by choice. Seeing his barren, escape-proof quarters had only confirmed her suspicions. 

Don looked Valeria in the eyes, the fear running through him was palpable. 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Valeria promised. “I would’ve helped. I still will, if you need me to.”

Don dared to take her hand and squeeze it. “I will need help. You’re the only one that I trust here.”

“What do you need?” Valeria asked. 

Don just smiled sadly. “I’ll call in a few days,” he murmured. “I can’t tell you now.” Don then said the next part in a normal tone of voice. “The Triceraton project is incredibly important to me. I’m going to see it through to the end.”

Valeria nodded. “It’s important to me too. This job is my life’s purpose. Please tell me; Am I playing for the right team?”

Don realized how scared and off-kilter Valeria must be. She was here by choice, and she had assumed that he was too. It must have been earth-shaking for her to realize that her boss wasn’t necessarily the hero that he claimed to be, to realize what Bishop was capable of. Don felt so sorry for her. She didn’t even know the worst of it. 

He squeezed her hand a little tighter. “You are,” he promised. “The world isn’t black and white; It’s mostly grey. But, however imperfect it is, it’s definitely worth protecting. In the end, that’s all that EPF has ever tried to do. You’re playing for the right team.”

Valeria kept her eyes locked on him and slowly nodded. “Get some rest,” she advised. “You’ll need it.”

Don gave her a sad smile, and the two parted with a hug.


	13. Chapter 13

It was 3:52 PM the next day, which would prove to be a fateful Tuesday. At this point, Don was just pretending to work. He drummed a pencil on his desk. 

Taptaptaptaptap

Valeria glared at him. Maybe he was used to high stakes gambles, but she sure wasn’t. His nervous energy was rubbing off on her and unlike him, she didn’t know how to handle it. 

Taptaptaptaptap

It was now 3:53. Don noticed Valeria’s glare and gave an apologetic chuckle. He stopped drumming the pencil and began fidgeting with a styrofoam food container. He had brought it from his workshop to the office fifteen minutes before. Valeria didn’t know what it was, but it must be important. It appeared to be the only thing that he was bringing along. 

3:54: Don ran a hand over his face. He ate a cracker and took a sip of peppermint tea to chase it. He was a little pale. Feeling nauseous. Some ninja. 

3:55: The tea and cracker didn’t work. Don barfed in a trash can. Valeria shuddered. “Sorry,” Don apologized. He brought the can to the bathroom across the hall and flushed the contents down the toilet. He cleaned the can, splashed some water on his face, and rinsed out his mouth. 

3:59: Don reappeared in the office. He closed the main door behind him, leaving his guards in the hall. Rather than returning to his desk, he grabbed the styrofoam container, secured it as best he could in a pouch on his belt, then crossed the room to stand by the fire door. Valeria gave him a pat on the shell as he passed. “Good luck,” she mouthed. Some sort of emotion that Don didn’t have time to consider was playing across her face. 

Don smiled. It was surprisingly bright given his nerves. “Thanks,” he said, “for everything.”

Valeria saw something soft and painfully vulnerable in his eyes before he turned to steel. 

4:00: The click of the fire door’s electronic lock opening was almost imperceptible. Like a ghost, Don disappeared. Valeria had been looking right at him, but still, she almost missed it. Maybe he was a ninja after all.   
……….  
Taptaptaptaptap

Leonardo drummed his fingers on the door of the Battle Shell. It was 4:04. Donatello had asked them to drive by the main gate at exactly 4:05. 

Taptaptaptaptap

“Knock it off, Leo!” Raphael hollered from behind the wheel. “I’m trying to time this just right.”

Leo stopped for fifteen seconds, then forgot why Raph had been annoyed. 

Taptaptaptaptap

Raphael howled. Leonardo looked at his hands. Whoops. 

4:05: The door to the base’s main building burst open. Donatello shot out. He was wielding a broom as he flew towards the closed gate. Seconds later, two dozen guards poured out behind him. 

“He’s not going to make it!” Leonardo yelled. Donatello was approaching the gate at top speed, as though he was going to run straight through it. 

“He’s not slowing down,” Michelangelo called. “Open the door!”

Leonardo opened the van door. Donatello planted the broom and used it as a pole vault, dropping it at the height of his jump. He soared over the top of the gate with grace and power that would put even a top Olympic athlete to shame. Don landed in Leo’s open arms. The Battle Shell vanished around a corner before the desert dust began to settle around the discarded broom.   
………  
Raphael looked over his shoulder as he drove as fast as the Battle Shell would allow. Donatello and Leonardo had been knocked back onto the floor when he turned the corner. Michelangelo had taken advantage of the opportunity and jumped on top of them. 

Don returned the affection while attempting to subtly protect his middle, as well as the precious hormone ampules in his belt. “You came!” Don celebrated. 

Michelangelo slapped him on the back. “Of course we did!” he exclaimed, as though driving from New York to Nevada and timing their arrival right down to the second had been the easiest thing in the world. 

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Donatello,” Leo chastised. There was a firmness hidden behind the leader’s playful smirk. 

“I know,” Don admitted. “It’s a pretty long story.” 

“Well, it’s 2,500 miles between here and New York. That ought to give you plenty of time,” Raphael noted. 

“Who said that New York is our destination?” Leonardo asked. 

“Yeah! LA or bust,” Michelangelo cheered. He pulled Leo and Don in tighter. “Movie stars, palm trees, surfing the Pacific - we’re so close, guys!”

Raphael growled. “I’m sure Don just wants to get home, after whatever Bishop put him through.”

Michelangelo looked at Donatello pleadingly. Don swallowed hard. “Sorry, But Raph is right. Now isn’t a good time for a vacation.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Leo agreed. “But I’m not sure that home is safe, either. Bishop plucked Don out of the sewers, so he must know that we live down there.”

“If so, why didn’t he come for the rest of us?” Raphael argued. 

“He hates us, remember?” Michelangelo reminded. 

“Besides, he had to know that I wouldn’t have kept cooperating with him if he tried to harm you guys,” Don added. 

“But you’re not cooperating now, so all bets are off. I don’t think we’ll be safe at home,” Leo opined. 

“Yes, we will,” Don insisted. “I’ll take care of everything. You can head east, Raphael, towards home.”

“Awwww,” Michelangelo complained. 

“Next stop, New York City,” Raph declared. 

But it wasn’t. The next stop was an abandoned parking lot, fifteen minutes later, where Donatello puked on a tumbleweed. In his defense, he’d been attempting to puke behind the tumbleweed, but it had done what tumbleweeds do and started blowing around. 

“Sorry,” Don apologized. 

“That’s okay, bro,” Leo said as he pet Don’s shell and looked off into the horizon. “But, I thought you said that you were over that virus.”

“It’s not a virus,” Don moaned. “I’m just…. messed up right now, and I don’t think that the motion is helping.”

“Well, we’ve got to get back to New York somehow,” Michelangelo pointed out. “Unless you’ve got a wormhole generator in that tool belt of yours.”

“No, just give me a second,” Don rasped. He took a few huffs of fresh air and climbed reluctantly back into the Battle Shell. After stepping into the van, he adjusted his belt to better disguise the small bump in his plastron. 

“Now that you have that out of the way, could you please tell us what’s been going on?” Leo requested. 

Don internalized a groan. He’d been avoiding questions for the past half hour. Instead, he had kept everyone focused on the escape, mapping the best route to New York, and providing updates about their friends and life back home. Don had been stalling. He had been so focused on escaping Area 51, heading off the Triceraton threat, and worrying about his babies that he hadn’t thought about the best way to speak to his brothers. 

Don decided to tell them about the babies later. Everyone was already edgy from being cooped up in the Battle Shell. When Don’s stomach distress had forced the unscheduled stop, Raphael had immediately chased Michelangelo into the desert and forced him to kiss a cactus as revenge for asking ‘are we there yet?’ every ten minutes on the drive out. 

Don knew that everyone would be upset at his news. He told himself that it would be easier to talk at home when things were less tense. After all, he had kept his secret this long. He also felt like he had earned a bit of a break. He’d been under so much stress, he just wanted to chill out for a few days. 

Donatello did tell his brothers everything about the Triceraton threat. He told them all about the distress calls, how he was listening in on ship-to-ship communication, about the satellites he had built, and how he had escaped. 

“But why escape?” Leo asked. “If everything was going so well, and what you were doing was so important, then why not stay? You told us that you weren’t a prisoner.”

Don felt his nausea rising again. “It turns out that I was wrong about that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“Well I hate to say I told you so,” Raph called from behind the wheel. 

“No, you don’t,” Michelangelo countered. Raphael swerved and caused the orange-banded turtle to bonk his head into the wall. 

“We don’t need to argue about it,” Leo preached. “At least Don is free now. But, what does it mean for your projects? Are other people taking them on, or do you have some plans for neutralizing the threat on your own?”

“I can’t leave the project,” Don announced. “I’ll just be working from home.”

“You really think Bishop will allow that?” Raphael scoffed. 

“He needs me,” Don insisted. “That’s why he kidnapped me to begin with.”

“So tell us again why you think that you’ll be safe now,” Raphael requested. 

Donatello smirked a little. “I’ll show you. Can I just borrow someone’s shell cell?”

Michelangelo handed over his phone, and Donatello called his own number. He knew that Bishop was storing his shell cell in the base’s communication room. Now that Don had escaped, Bishop probably had his techs attempting to hack into the shell cell’s GPS program to track his brothers’ whereabouts. Don made a mental note to remotely wipe the phone of all its non-essential programming after he finished speaking to Bishop. 

Almost immediately after the first ring, Bishop picked up. “How dare you?!” the EPF agent shouted. “Just who do you think-“

Don smirked as Bishop cussed him out. “Did you get that out of your system?” Donatello asked after Bishop finished ranting. “Because if you’re done cursing, I’ll put you on speaker phone so that we can discuss what happens next.”

Don was worried that Bishop might let the news of his pregnancy slip, so he left one finger on the hang-up button, even as he switched the phone to speaker. 

“Now,” Don said. “First and foremost, I will not be returning to Area 51. I have a family to worry about, and I’m not going to be separated from them any longer. Furthermore, I can’t allow myself, or them, to be cooped up, caged up, or used as pawns in someone’s master plans. You’ve made it pretty clear that you feel like you can use me and them however you want, just because we’re mutants and therefore don’t have any rights.“

Don had chosen his words very carefully. They could have been referring to his brothers or his children. Having gotten that out of the way, it was time to move on to the good stuff. 

“I know that you know where we live, and I’m sure that you feel like we're mere possessions that you would be completely justified to take back. Clearly, I can’t let that happen. So, I had to find a way to get some leverage.” Donatello rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like the level that he had to stoop to. 

“My brothers and I know all about the faked alien invasion, how your sloppy work led to the outbreak virus, and all of those poor people’s mutations. We also know about how EPF set up the fake alien abduction of the president in order to secure more funding. Needless to say, if word got out about any of that, your reputation and career would be ruined.”

Bishop had been quietly fuming, but now he spoke up. “You know that I needed that funding! Sometimes you have to do a little harm in order to serve the greater good. I never would’ve hurt the President, and the outbreak virus was an unfortunate accident - an accident that I worked tirelessly to correct.”

“Be that as it may, I’m sure that you would prefer that no one knows about your misdeeds,” Donatello countered. 

“Of course not. That’s why I destroyed all the evidence,” Bishop boasted. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Don warned. “While I was in your care, I was able to poke around your servers a little bit. Turns out that you don’t cover your tracks as well as you think you do.”

“What did you find?!” Bishop growled. 

“Plenty,” Don said, smugly. “Your plans for the fake aliens and how to intersect the President’s motorcade, congratulatory emails to your little cronies when the funding came in, ideas about how to fight the outbreak virus.” Don paused a moment. “Oh, and about 2,500 emails between you and Baxter Stockman about your plans and the subsequent coverup.”

“How?!” Bishop yelled. 

“I have my ways,” Donatello replied. “And I can prove it too. I’ll send you some of the emails when I get back to New York.”

“There’s no need for that,” Bishop sneered. 

“Come now, it would be my pleasure. I don’t want you to have any doubts about what I can do. Everything that I found was uploaded to one of the satellites. I can access it whenever I want. I’ll be sure that my family and friends can as well.” Don dropped his voice to its most threatening level. “If you come for me or my family, if you threaten any of us in any way, all of those files are getting sent to every media outlet that I can think of.”

“Fine. Have it your way,” Bishop yelled. “I guess you’ve beaten me. But little good it will do you when this planet is overrun by alien scum. I can’t believe that you would be so petty and short-sighted, Donatello.”

“Oh, but I’m not,” Donatello argued. “I’m in it for the long game. I always have been. Believe it or not, even after everything you’ve done, I don’t think of you as my enemy, and I’m fairly certain that I will never have to use any of my leverage against you. Not only that, but I’ll keep working for you. I just won’t be your prisoner. It’s no life for me or anyone.”

“Just how do you propose to do that?” Bishop asked. “All my satellites are controlled from here. My team is here. You know how secured this base is.”

“Not so secure that Donnie couldn’t break out,” Raphael snickered. 

“If you want me to keep working for you, you’ll agree to my terms,” Donatello pointed out. 

“And what might they be?” Bishop wondered. 

“They’re simple. You guarantee my freedom and the freedom of my family. I may have leverage, but I don’t want to use it. I want you to promise me that we will be safe.” Donatello paused. He suspected that his family might not like the next part. “You do that, and I’ll agree to keep working on tracking Triceraton movements and setting up a planetary defense system. I trust Valeria. She can manage the project from Area 51, and let me know where she needs me. I’ll keep crunching data and working on designs. I’ll prepare blueprints and send them to her. The build team can construct and test everything that I design. You would still have complete control over the project itself, just not direct control over me.”

Bishop thought for a moment. “I suppose that those are fair terms,” he conceded. “But you still have something of mine.”

Don hissed. “That’s where you’re wrong. I took nothing from you that wasn’t mine to begin with. That’s one point that I will not bend on.”

Bishop seemed to understand that there was nothing he could do. Donatello had backed him into a corner. “Fine,” Bishop spat. “But remember that you owe me for that family of yours.” Bishop had gotten the hint that Don didn’t want to address the babies directly. He would play along for now.

“Thank you, I suppose,” Don said. “I’ll send you that email in a few days.”

“If you insist,” Bishop relented. “I’ll talk to Valeria about the best way for the two of you to keep working together.” Bishop paused, he sounded almost sick when he spoke again. “And, thank you, Donatello. Thank you for agreeing to keep working on the Triceraton project. That’s the most important thing, after all - protection of this planet.”

“You’re welcome,” Don said before hanging up. He then remotely reprogrammed his shell cell so that all of its data was erased. It could still accept incoming calls and text messages from other shell cells, but otherwise, it would be useless to Bishop. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Today had gone better than he would have dared dream. 

“What. The. Shell?” Raphael choked out. 

“What?” Don asked, genuinely confused. 

“What was all of that stuff about protecting your family? Did Bishop have plans to do something to us?” Raphael asked. 

“Oh, that,” Don sighed. He tried to think of a way to partially answer the question without outright lying or giving away his secret. “You know how Bishop is. After I found out that I wasn’t as free as I thought I was, I got pretty mad. He tried to convince me that none of us are free since we’re forced to hide away and live in the sewers. He said that we’d have a better life if we agreed to stay at Area 51 - that we’d actually be freer there.”

“He brings up a good point,” Michelangelo mused. “We never really have been free.”

“I’ve been making that point for years,” Raphael grumbled. 

“Guys, stop,” Leo ordered. “Don’t distract us from the original question. What does how free we are have to do with anything?”

“Yeah,” Raphael agreed. “You kind of made it sound like Bishop was about to kidnap us too, but all along you’ve been telling us that he wouldn’t let us onto the base even if we wanted to come voluntarily. So which is it?”

“Who knows with Bishop?” Don exclaimed. “He obviously wasn’t being truthful with me, and he’s come after us plenty of times. I just wanted to make it perfectly clear that he can’t mess with our family any more, especially if he wants me to keep working on the Triceraton project.”

“Well, I think that you did a good job of that,” Leo praised. “Do you really have all that evidence against him, or was that just a bluff?”

“Oh, I’ve got it,” Don promised. “And I’ll show all of you how to get it, as well as April, Casey, Angel, the Professor, and whoever else we can think of.”

“Oh, nice work, Braniac,” Raphael cheered. “I say we release it all anyway. Get that slimeball back for everything he’s done to us.”

“We made a deal, Raph,” Donatello disagreed. “I don’t want it getting out unless I need it too.”

“Better rethink telling Casey and Angel, then,” Raph considered. “You know how those two love trouble.”

“What, and you don’t?” Michelangelo teased. 

“Donatello gave his word,” Leo pointed out. “We need to remember our code of honor.”

Don’s stomach churned. How honorable was he being? He was blackmailing Bishop, and even worse, withholding the full truth from his brothers. Who knew how many half-truths he had told in the past few months, and goodness knows he was bound to tell more. Still, he just couldn’t bring himself to look his brothers in the eyes and tell them what had happened. Not yet. 

“Pull over!” Don suddenly cried. 

“There’s no shoulder,” Raphael replied. “Can’t it wait?”

Raph looked behind him to see that Don already had a hand over his mouth and another clenching his stomach. There was terror in his eyes. 

Raphael pulled over as best he could and Donatello shot out the door. Michelangelo followed and pet Don’s shell as he heaved. “What is going on with you?” Mikey asked sympathetically. “Are you sure that Bishop didn’t infect you with something? You’re not going to turn into a monster again, are you? Because the last time you threw up in the Battle Shell-“

“No,” Don soothed as he wiped his mouth. “Rest assured, I’m not going to turn into a monster again.”

“So my arm is safe?” Mikey joked. 

Don smiled weakly. “I will not be biting your arm. I’ve just been really nauseous for months now. Too much stress, too many new people. The motion certainly isn’t helping.” Don was particularly proud of the ‘too many new people’ bit. It was as close to telling them the truth of the situation as he would come on the ride back to New York.


	14. Chapter 14

Home sweet home. The trip had only taken two and a half days. Everyone suspected that Raphael had been doing some pretty heavy duty speeding while the others slept. They were hard-pressed to prove it, but the distance they had covered during his turns to drive overnight spoke for itself. 

Don might have enjoyed sleeping on the van floor with his brothers if he hadn’t needed to make pit stops every few hours. The long drive had made his nausea much worse, and keeping a secret from his loved ones hadn’t helped. It sure felt good to be home, with his lab, his computer, and his bed. 

The first thing that he had done after getting home was hide his hormones in the lab’s mini fridge. He had managed to tuck them away in the Battle Shell, and they had escaped everyone’s notice. He had snuck them during his turns driving, when the others had been distracted with license plate bingo, or counting cows, or attempting to stop Mikey from singing along with the radio. 

The second thing that he had done after getting home was set up a secure email address and compose a message to Valeria. 

 

Hello from NY. As Bishop probably told you, I made a successful escape. Thank you for all of your help, and for always being so kind to me. If you are willing to continue on with our little project, please let me know, although I do understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore. I hope that your hair is still purple.  
-Donatello

 

Don left it at that and hit send. It was hard to fight the urge to keep checking his email. To distract himself, he thought about the thing that he dreaded most - telling his family about the triplets. He knew that he couldn’t delay too much longer. Three days was all that he was allowing himself. He would tell them everything on Monday. It was Thursday now, so it was sort of like taking a long weekend. 

Leonardo would be disappointed, but he would likely be noble enough to try and hide it, at least for a while. Donatello knew that he had made a lot of bad decisions to end up in this place. He shouldn’t have broken Leo’s rules and left the Lair, then he wouldn’t have been turtle-napped to begin with. He shouldn’t have stayed at Area 51, voluntarily. Given what he knew now, that decision was going to drive the wedge further between him and his brothers. He shouldn’t have trusted Bishop. He should have told everyone sooner. 

He knew that Raphael would be mad, although not necessarily at Don himself. Raph would be mad at Bishop for what he had done, but when Raphael was mad, it overflowed onto everyone and everything around him. He would either run off to blow off steam, or tear apart the Lair. Either way, it would be ugly. 

Michelangelo - he was the wild card. Mikey was pretty mad that Don had left him alone with his warring brothers. But, Mikey might just be excited about the prospect of baby turtles. Mikey was the carefree type. Maybe he would take Don’s side in all this. Maybe he’d be excited about the new additions and nothing else would matter… maybe. It was Don’s best hope anyway. 

One thing that Don had to be clear about was that he wanted these kids. Maybe he was too young, and carrying them was going to be hard, and raising them even harder, but he did want them. He loved them already and was more than willing to suffer for them. He had to make his brothers see the potential for happiness that they would bring to this clan. Everything had been falling apart since Master Splinter died. Here was something that could make them happy again, if they would let it.  
……….  
On Friday and Saturday, Don trained with his brothers. He noticed that they were more violent than usual, probably due to pent up frustration from being stuck in the Battle Shell for five days straight and being denied a fight at Area 51. Don worked hard to protect his belly, without making it look suspicious. He managed to avoid being kicked or struck in the gut, or forcefully flipped onto his back. 

His back was killing him as it was. The van ride hadn’t been kind to it, and he had adopted a sloppy posture to hide his thickening midsection. The babies were also starting to get big enough to put pressure on his spine. Don’s plastron was still rather firm and rigid, so the babies were being pressed more against his back than would have been the case in a normal human pregnancy. It hurt, but he soldiered on. 

It was nice to be getting real exercise again. Don had trained as much as he could at Area 51, but he could tell that he was rusty. He was tiring easily and finding himself running out of breath. His nausea was a little more under control, at least. Splinter had kept a stash of peppermint tea, which Don had requisitioned for himself. He was hopeful that the morning sickness would begin to improve now that he was in the second trimester. He had read that it usually did. 

When Don wasn’t training, he was working on the Battle Shell. The 5,000-mile trip had been rough on it, and Don suspected that no one had maintained it in his absence. The oil looked terrible, and the suspension was shot. 

Friday night, Don received an email from Valeria. 

 

Donatello - I’m so happy that you made it home. I’ve been really worried about you. Of course, I want to keep working with you on the Triceraton project. I’ve set up an FTP site, and I will upload all of the satellite data to it, as well as the Triceraton fleet’s communication feeds. I can also give you a summary of my thoughts about each day’s data bundles. But before we do that, we need to set up some security. Even though Bishop has signed off on this, I need to ensure that this is really you before we start sharing state secrets. So, tell me what machine we were standing in front of when we first met, and what your Dad’s name was. I will then send the FTP credentials to this email address.  
\- Valeria 

 

Don smiled as he remembered that first meeting at the coffee machine.  
……….  
Sunday afternoon, Don was working on his computer while his brothers were hanging around on the couch. 

“Is it just me or is Don looking a little - how to put this nicely? Porky?” Michelangelo asked.

Raphael rolled his eyes. “You think calling him ‘porky’ is putting it nicely?”

“It’s not like I’d say it to his face!” Mikey pointed out.

“I’m sure we’ve all noticed,” Leo stated. “It’s kind of hard to miss. But, Don has been through a lot these past few months. He probably just began stress-eating as a defense mechanism or something. I’m sure he’ll take the weight off in no time now that he’s back home.”

“I don’t get how he managed to put any weight on to begin with, given that he’s been throwing up constantly,” Raphael grumbled. 

“Maybe he’s overcompensating, and eating too much afterwards,” Leo theorized. “Plus, it sounds like Bishop had him pretty much tied to that desk, so he couldn’t have gotten much exercise. But, keeping in shape has always been as important to Don as it is to the rest of us. Once he gets readjusted, I’m sure that he’ll take the extra weight off in no time flat.”

Mikey shrugged. “Maybe, but in the meantime, should we try cooking healthier or something?”

Leo shook his head. “I’m afraid that would hurt his feelings. He seems to be so sensitive about it. His posture is terrible. He’s always slumping over and crossing his arms and messing around with his belt. I think he’s trying to keep us from noticing.”

“I know,” Raphael agreed. “I feel bad that he seems to feel like he has to hide it from us. Does he think that we’ll pick on him or judge him or something? What have we done to give him that idea?”

“Well, it does paint a funny picture,” Michelangelo replied. “A chubby, mutant, ninja turtle.”

Raphael playfully slapped Mikey on the side of his head.

“That’s what gave him that idea. Have a little sensitivity, Michelangelo,” Leo commanded. “If the problem doesn’t correct itself, I’ll have a talk with Don. Until then, just keep your mouths shut.”


	15. Chapter 15

Don splashed some water onto his face and then took a few deep breaths in an attempt to bite down the nausea that was still raging within him. He didn’t usually consider himself to be a magical thinker, but some silly optimistic part of him had been expecting to feel better simply because he was home now. It hadn’t worked out that way. Trying to hide what was going on and stressing out about how to speak to his brothers probably wasn’t helping. 

He sighed as he examined himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d lost a little weight from being so sick all the time. His cheeks weren’t quite as full, and the flesh at his sides was pulled a bit closer to his ribs. In contrast, his stomach was noticeably swelling. He fussed uselessly with his belt, in a futile effort to hide the evidence of his condition. Don sighed and slumped over in frustration. Who was he kidding? There was no hiding it anymore. What was the point of even trying?

He’d told himself that he’d only wait a few days before spilling the beans. The self-imposed deadline was Monday, which was today. He had to quit stalling and face the music before his brothers figured it out on their own. Even though one of them bearing children was the last thing that anyone would have expected, the constant illness and bulging midsection painted a pretty clear picture. Don steeled himself and strode out the bathroom door. 

His brothers, all seated around the table for breakfast, greeted him warmly. His stomach churned at the sight of all the food. He stared at it in distaste, feeling even sicker. 

“You okay, Don?” Raphael asked. 

“Yeah,” Mikey added. “You’re looking either too green, or not green enough. I can’t tell.”

Don swallowed thickly. “I’m fine. Just feeling a bit sick to my stomach.”

“I’ll make you some of that peppermint tea,” Leo offered as he rose. “You seem to have grown rather fond of it.”

“And toast,” Mikey said, getting up as well. “Toast is good for a sour stomach.”

“It’s really okay. I’m not very hungry,” Don told them. “Honestly, it’s part nerves. There’s something… Well, there’s something I need to tell you guys, and it won’t be easy.”

Don looked at his family’s patient faces. He knew that they suspected that he hadn’t been totally honest about his time at Area 51. He opened and closed his mouth, but the words he had spent all weekend formulating just wouldn’t come. Instead, he felt an all-too-familiar feeling rising in his throat. Even though he’d just emptied his stomach, it was happening again. Don covered his mouth with one hand and made a mad dash back to the bathroom. Tears rose to his eyes as he began to uselessly heave all over again. 

Leo had managed to keep Don from locking the door as he made his desperate sprint. He knelt down beside his sick sibling and rubbed his shell while Don continued his unproductive retching. “What’s going on with you Don? Just tell us. You’ll feel better.”

“No, I won’t,” Don wailed into the toilet bowl. He rocked back on his heels as the latest wave of nausea faded away. 

“Yes you will. Just say what you’ve been trying to say and get it over with,” Leo gently urged. Raphael and Michelangelo watched from the doorway as Leo pulled Don into a tentative hug. “You can tell us anything, Don.”

Don melted into his brother and closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t look at them, this would be easier. “Bishop,” Don moaned. “Bishop… he did something to me.”

“I knew it!” Raphael exclaimed. 

“What Don? What did Bishop do?” Leo whispered.

“He…. I….” Don looked up from where he had buried his face against Leo’s chest. “Leo, guys… I’m… I’m expecting.” Don couldn’t bring himself to say the word pregnant, even though he knew that he was, and that it would’ve been clearer. He still couldn’t bear to think of himself that way.

“Expecting what?” Mikey asked from the doorway. Everyone else seemed to be waiting for that answer too. Although they should’ve easily been able to put it together, their minds weren’t accepting this outlandish story. Surely Don meant something else.

“Babies,” Don moaned, leaving it at that. He could feel Leo’s body tense up around him. 

Michelangelo still didn’t get it. He looked behind him. “What babies? When are they supposed to get here?”

Leo, at least, finally understood. “Is that why you’re so sick?” he asked. “Bishop… he did… this to you?”

Don nodded and released a single sob. He was unable to compose himself enough to offer a verbal response. Rather than gentle, like before, Leo’s grip around him was vice-like. The leader’s whole body was as rigid as stone. 

“Don, how?” Raphael asked, his voice soft with shock. 

“Produced the embryos using genetic samples he collected from us four. Gassed me. Messed around with my anatomy and implanted them in my cloaca. Hormones. Using hormones to sustain things,” was Don’s fragmented answer. 

Michelangelo made a noise of understanding. 

“Embryos?” Leo repeated. “How many?”

“Th-three,” Don gasped before letting out another sob. 

“Three? And you said he used samples from all four of us?” Leo reiterated. 

“Y-Yeah...that’s it,” Don sighed. As terrible as he felt, he was at least happy that it was all on the table, and that he didn’t need to cover things up anymore. Don felt his brothers’ eyes move to his belly, and he put a protective hand over it, not wanting to be looked at in that way. 

“So this is, like, morning sickness?” Mikey asked. 

“Yeah,” Donatello said with a ghost of a smile. “Lasts all day, though,” he added, softly.

“So, do you know when… How far along are ya?” Raph asked hesitantly. 

“Um, three months.”

“And when are you...expecting them?” Leo asked. 

Don shrugged. “No way to be sure. Bishop thought that my progression would be similar to a human’s, but slightly shorter because the embryos were already somewhat developed prior to implantation, and because it’s multiples. Maybe five or six months from now?”

“Around November or December, then?” Mikey wondered. 

“Maybe,” Don replied. 

“Well, three baby turtles would be a pretty cool Christmas gift,” Mikey proclaimed. 

From the mournful looks that he received, no one shared that particular sentiment. 

“Shell!” Raphael shouted, breaking the silence that had briefly overtaken the room. He punched the bathroom wall, sending dust and bits of concrete flying into the air. To his credit, he didn’t storm out, but the glare that he fixed on Donatello was anything but merciful. “How long have you known about this, Donatello?!”

Don felt everyone else’s eyes burning into him. If he could have melted into the floor, he would have, but it was time for the white lies and half-truths to stop. He had to put everything on the table, be totally honest and move on. “I’ve known for a couple of months now,” he softly admitted. “I didn’t figure it out right away, but after I started getting really sick and not improving, I confronted Bishop. Then he told me… showed me everything.”

“You really believe that he told you everything?!” Raphael yelled, flailing his arms for emphasis. “How gullible are ya, Don?”

“Raph, stop!” Michelangelo begged. 

“You’ve known for two months?” Leo questioned. “Why didn’t you tell us? All those phone calls…”

Leo trailed off, and from the expectant looks on everyone’s faces, Don knew that he had better answer. He really didn’t want to, though.

“I was scared,” Don said in a small voice. “I was so scared, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I knew that you would want to come free me or fight Bishop, and I just couldn’t let you do that. Plus, you guys were arguing so much as it was, and I knew that this would only make things worse. I just… couldn’t do that to you guys.”

“Don’t pretend that it was out of nobility, Donatello,” Raphael said coldly. “You didn’t trust us with the truth. You did the same thing that you always do and just dealt with everything on your own. You purposely left the rest of us in the dark, again.”

“I didn’t say that I did it to be noble,” Don defended. “I was scared. That’s all.”

“Scared of us,” Raphael bellowed. 

Michelangelo frowned at his hotheaded brother. “Can’t imagine why that would be the case,” he teased. He was trying to lighten the mood, but the attempt fell flat. 

“And scared of what we’d do, or that we’d fall apart in your absence, because we’re just a bunch of shellheads who need our hands held all the time,” Raphael continued. 

“I don’t think that,” Don said firmly. “I just didn’t want to make things worse when they were already so bad. I know that this is the worst possible time.”

“You got that right,” Raphael growled. 

“That’s enough, Raphael,” Leonardo scolded. He had stepped away when the yelling started, and was standing by the sink with his arms crossed. Don was now all alone on the floor, like a cowering animal. 

“Don, you do have a habit of hiding things from us,” Leonardo pointed out. 

Everyone knew that Leo was referring to the Outbreak virus. Don had been sick for months with what he claimed was just a cold. The cut on his leg had kept getting worse, rather than better, but Don had insisted that he was okay. He kept working and training, as usual, even holing up with Leatherhead to work on cures for the very virus that he was infected with. The other turtles had found it hard to believe that Don truly didn’t know what was going on within his own body. Leatherhead was as close as they had to a doctor, after all. It seemed as though Don had kept them all in the dark right up until he mutated. Don honestly hadn’t known what was going on, but the others never quite believed him. 

“I don’t purposefully hide things from you guys, I swear,” Don promised. “I truly didn’t know that I was sick with the Outbreak.”

“Not this again,” Mikey groaned. “Can’t we just leave the past behind us, where it belongs?”

“We’re ninjas,” Donnie pointed out. “We all have aches and pains that we push through. That’s all I was doing. I wasn’t hiding anything from you guys back then. I’m not doing that now, either.”

“Sure, you aren’t now,” Raphael scoffed. 

“What do you want from me?” Don begged. “I know that what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to be honest. It’s not like I wanted to hurt you guys. I was just trying to do what I thought was best… for everyone.”

No one had anything to say to that. Leonardo pinched between his eyes and shook his head. Raphael was frozen in place at the door, inadvertently blocking it. Michelangelo had been pacing the room, and finally came to rest on the closed lid of the toilet. Donatello had slid up to the opposite wall, and was sitting with his legs hugged to his chest. 

Leonardo realized that he should step up as the leader and head of the clan, so he broke the silence. “Well, if you’ve known about this for two months, I’m guessing that you have some ideas about what you want to do?”

Don looked at Leo thoughtfully for a few moments. “What do you mean?” he finally asked. 

“What do you want to do?” Leo repeated. “Have the babies? Get rid of them? Raise them? Put them up for adoption? Go back to Bishop? What do you want to do, Donatello?”

Don choked. He had assumed that the answer was a given. “Have them and raise them, of course. You want me to do something different?”

Leonardo frowned. “Does it matter what we want?”

“Of course!” Don exclaimed. 

“Yeah, right,” Raphael scoffed. 

“What.. what options would you guys have me consider? I can’t get rid of them.” The very thought almost made Don sick. “They’re a part of me. Of all of us, really.”

Leo actually softened a little at that. “I know, Don. Of course, you wouldn’t allow any harm to come to them.” 

Don was the gentlest of the brothers, the one that chose a bo because it was harder to do real damage with it, the one who often begged them to show mercy in battle. All of the turtles valued life, but none more so than Donatello. 

“There’s no way that I want Bishop to raise them. And, who would adopt them?” Don wondered. 

“I would!” Mikey bubbled. “Baby turtles, dudes! Am I the only one excited about this?”

Don gave Mikey a weak but grateful smile. 

“What about your medical care?” Raphael asked. “Ya ever think of that? Leatherhead is finally back on the Utrom Homeworld. Who’s gonna make sure you stay healthy during all of this?”

“I am,” Don said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Right, because you’ve been so awesome at taking care of yourself in the past,” Raphael grumbled. 

“I’ve learned a lot since the Outbreak virus,” Don defended. “I’ll be careful. Everything has been fine so far.”

“You’ve been barfing round the clock for months,” Raphael yelled. “And no one wants to say it, but you look like hell.”

“That’s normal for someone in my condition,” Don groused. 

“I thought pregnant women were supposed to glow,” Mikey teased. 

“I meant the vomiting,” Don clarified. “But thanks for letting me know how bad I look.”

“Shut up, Michelangelo,” Raphael hollered. “Don could be dying. If you’re not going to take this seriously then just get out!”

Michelangelo looked abashed. “Dying?”

Don laughed brokenly. “I’m not dying.”

“What makes you so sure that your body can handle this?” Leonardo asked in a more gentle tone than Raphael had adopted. “I mean, it’s not…. natural. You’ve been so sick.”

“We’re not natural, but we seem to do okay,” Don opined. “Besides, Bishop seemed to have it all planned out. He seemed to know what I’d be able to handle and how things would progress.”

“Bishop wouldn’t have cared if he lost you,” Raphael spat. “He just did whatever struck his fancy at the time. Even if he really did value you for some reason, I’m sure he figured he could just scrape a few cells from your corpse and clone you if you were to die during this process.”

The thought was chilling, but Raphael was probably right about that. Don shook his head. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean that I’m dying.”

“So you’re just gonna carry triplets like it’s nothing, be your own doctor. Then, what happens when it’s time for them to come out?” Raph ranted. “You gonna cut yourself open too?”

Don flushed. Discussing his body was embarrassing at the best of times. “Um. From what Bishop told me, and what I’ve seen on my scans, I don’t think that I’ll need a cesarean.”

“Dudes don’t give birth!” Raphael squawked. 

“They don’t carry children either, but here we are,” Don countered, feeling a little heated for the first time. “And we're not regular ‘dudes.’ Our hips and backs are more turtle-like than human. We have wider dimensions than regular humans. We’re...hooked up differently, and our cloacas are somewhat similar to a female’s uterus. They’re elastic and capable of contractions. Plus, Bishop messed around with my insides to make all this possible, and he wanted me to do this over and over. So yeah, I’m thinking that surgery won’t be necessary.”

“So everything is just hunky dory, then?” Raphael mocked. “It’s all gonna turn out just perfect, like some sort of fairytale? You know that’s never the case for us!”

“Maybe this time it will be,” Don defended. “Why does your mind always go to the worst possible place, Raphael?”

“I don’t know. Why does your mind always go to the best possible place, Donatello?” Raphael shot back. “If you hadn’t trusted Bishop, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Raph,” Leo warned. 

“He already had me,” Don correctly reasoned. “He was going to do whatever he wanted regardless of my feelings on the matter.”

“And what are your feelings?” Leonardo asked. 

Don sighed and took a moment to calm down and consider his answer. “I’m not thrilled at the timing, and I’m not enjoying life much lately, that’s for sure. I’m not too excited about giving birth, and I’m worried that I won’t be a good dad. But… I’m happy about the babies. I mean, this is probably my only chance to be a dad, and deep down inside, I guess it’s something that I always kind of hoped for - like, in my wildest dreams, you know?”

Don looked to his brothers to see what they had to say. Raphael’s lips flared. “Well, Congratulations to the expectant father. It’s been real nice knowing you,” he sneered before storming out of the bathroom. 

Michelangelo began to chase after Raphael, but Leonardo effortlessly caught his wrist. “Just let him go.”

Michelangelo gave Leo a searching gaze, then nodded and sat back down. 

“You’ve got to forgive Raph,” Michelangelo told Don. “He was really worried about you staying in Area 51. He felt helpless to protect you, and you know how much he hates feeling helpless.”

Don nodded. “I do.”

“He kind of felt like you abandoned us, too,” Leonardo put in. 

“We all did,” Michelangelo clarified. 

“I know,” Don sympathized. “I’m sorry.”

“We were all scared about what Bishop might do,” Leonardo said. “Raph especially. He wanted to drive over there and break you out. But, you said that you wanted to stay, so I told him to stand down. Now, I think that he feels like he was right all along.”

“Even if you came to my rescue right away, you would have been too late to stop this,” Don reasoned. 

“Maybe so,” Leo agreed, “but it still stings.”

Don let out a heavy sigh. “I get it. I just wish that you didn’t see this as a bad thing. A next generation would be… a good thing, wouldn’t it?”

Leonardo hesitated before answering. “Raph has a good point. This might kill you, Don. All we have is each other, and I don’t think we could stand another loss.”

“You won’t lose me,” Don reassured, “and you’ll get three new nieces or nephews to love.”

“Nieces or nephews?” Leonardo repeated. “I thought you said that the DNA that Bishop used came from all of us?”

“To varying degrees,” Don answered, “But most of it was mine.”

“It still feels like they’ll be more than nieces or nephews,” Leo considered. 

“I hope they will be,” Don reassured. “They’ll be your ninjutsu students, I would imagine.”

“I’m satisfied with uncle,” Mikey commented. “I’ll be the fun uncle.”

“Not like you have much competition there,” Don said, wryly. He winked at Leo, who didn’t seem to notice. 

“But where does this leave me?” Leo asked. 

Don squinted. “What do you mean?”

“Since Dad died, I’ve been clan leader. Do you still want me in that role, Don? I know Raph hates me being in charge, and it seems like you do whatever you want anyway. Now, you’ll be the parent to these kids. Is there even a point in me… maintaining some semblance of control around here?”

Don hadn’t seen this coming. He cocked his head, searchingly. “Leo?” 

Leo pushed himself off of the wall that he was leaning against and shook his head. “Just food for thought, I guess. We can talk about it later.” With that, Leo left the room. 

Michelangelo looked down at where Don was slumped on the floor. The family genius was kneading his temples with trembling hands. “Could you please get off of the toilet, Mikey? I think that I’m going to need it.”

Mikey stepped aside and opened the lid. He watched his brother begin another one of his sessions. As tempted as he was to leave the room, he stayed. When Don was done, Mikey helped him up. 

“Well, that went about as well as I expected it to,” Don quipped. 

Michelangelo knew that he should have said something, but for once, he had no words. Don muttered something about a migraine and stumbled into his bedroom. Michelangelo was left awkwardly standing alone by the sink, shell -shocked, and with absolutely no idea of what to do next.


	16. Chapter 16

Donatello came out of his room that afternoon, emerging like a frightened animal forced out of its cozy burrow. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Leonardo and Michelangelo were sitting together, playing cards. Don found himself staring.

“We do this now, when we’re alone together,” Michelangelo said without turning. “It’s soothing.”

Don crossed his arms, a position which he hoped hid his stomach. “Raphael didn’t come back?”

“Nope,” Michelangelo replied. “Not yet.”

“Are you guys still mad?” Don asked. He wondered if Leo was ignoring him for some reason.

“No,” Mikey said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Never was.”

Don waited for Leo to speak. Eventually, Leo looked up. “No. Sorry if you thought otherwise.”

Donatello wasn’t so sure. But, at the same time, he remembered how he had felt when he first found out about the babies - terrified and upset. He had holed up in his quarters and avoided even calling his brothers. If Leo was feeling even a fraction of that, Don couldn’t blame him for seeming out of sorts. He hesitated for a moment before heading to the fridge for a drink.

“Are you feeling any better?” Leo asked.

“Yeah,” Don said. “A bit, thanks.” He quickly downed a glass of orange juice. “How are you guys doing?”

“It just needs some time to settle in,” Leo replied. “This is just so surreal. I think that we all need a little while to regroup.”

“Yeah,” Don agreed, fidgeting with his hands. “Believe me, I get it.”

“In the meantime, you let us know what you need,” Leo encouraged. “We’re here for you, Donnie, and for the babies.”

Michelangelo signified his agreement with a kind smile.

The others returned to their game. Don had needed some food, but decided to head to his lab. He got the impression that his brothers needed space. Besides, he kept a stash of food in there and needed to distract himself with something. What better than the Triceraton?

Don checked the FTP site and found a new bulk data upload. He ignored the audio file at first. Bishop’s team at Area 51 was more than capable of listening to ship-to-ship communication. Instead, he got to work crunching data. After a few hours, he sent an email to Valeria.

 

Hey Val,

I was thinking, you should ask Bishop to give you my shell cell. I can’t imagine wanting to talk to anyone other than you with it, and I have ways of getting in touch with Bishop if I need to. I can reactivate the outgoing text messaging and call functions so you can get a hold of me more easily. It would be more secure too. We would just need to establish an identification system in case the phone is ever stolen, or if you get into trouble and need a secret way to tell me. Maybe we could begin each call with one of your made-up hair excuses? Anyway, it was just a thought. I’d much rather discuss the data with you in person than to keep exchanging emails. If Bishop gives you the phone, just hit the orange button. It used to call my brother Michelangelo’s phone, but I took his and gave him a new one. I hope that you’re well and staying out of trouble.  
\- Don

 

It wasn’t five minutes before Donatello’s phone rang. “Did you hear that the latest shipment of black hair dye was infested with scalp eating bacteria?” a warm voice greeted.

Don laughed. “I did. The news said there’s not an uncontaminated batch to be found anywhere.”

“It’s a shame too because I'm getting really sick of this purple streak,” Valeria teased.

“Oh, Val, I miss you,” Don said before he could stop himself. Who would’ve thought that life would have been simpler when he was a prisoner plotting his escape from Area 51?

“I miss you too. Everyone is so uptight around here.”

“Well, I hear that you’ve had some security problems lately,” Don commented.

“Not me,” Valeria giggled. “Nothing slips through on my watch.”

“Guessing you’re safe, then?” Don checked. “Bishop’s not giving you too much trouble?”

“Oh, he’s spitting mad. He knows better than to take it out on me, though. He’s too afraid of losing you completely,” Valeria explained.

“Good. If you ever feel like you’re in danger, just call this number. I have ways of protecting you, even from here,” Don promised.

“I’m sure you do. After your breakout, I take back anything I said about you not being a ninja.”

Don blushed. “It was nothing, really. More of a computer programming victory than a martial arts victory.”

“I’m not so sure,” Valeria argued. “I heard about what you pulled off with that broom.”

It was true. Donatello had taken out a few armed guards with the broom, as well as using it as a pole vault to get into the rafters. He had then swung across them like a monkey to escape some heavy foot traffic.

“You’re a legend around here, now,” Valeria complimented. “But now, onto the exciting stuff-“

“Data analysis,” Don and Val said in unison.

oOo

Raphael apparently spent the day and subsequent night somewhere safe. He showed up at daybreak. As he entered the Lair, he was greeted by the sound of Donatello getting sick in the bathroom.

Don cleaned up and staggered into the main room. He had a hand across his middle and looked very groggy. He stopped short, almost bumping into Raphael.

“Just what I wanted to come home to,” Raphael grumbled, “more of that.”

“Sorry,” Don muttered. He brushed by and flopped onto the sofa, hugging a pillow to cover up. “We gonna talk?”

Raphael seemed to shrink by a couple of inches. “I’m just scared for you, Don. I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything. I just can’t lose you. It really sucks when you’re gone, you know?”

Don blinked. He did know. He hadn’t told everyone all the details about his time in the alternate universe that Ultimate Drako had sent him to, but they all had a vague idea of what had happened there. Everything had fallen apart in Don’s absence, and the brothers had become estranged. That meant that it could happen here too. It was a heavy burden to bear, the kind of thing that kept Don up at night, made him question everything.

“I get it, Raph. I’m sorry to be putting you through all this, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make any promises that you can’t keep, Don. You should know better,” Raphael scolded.

Don sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept well. He was nauseous and shaky and he had a headache. “M’sorry.”

Raph let out a deep breath and sat on the other side of the sofa. “You know what? I’m sorry too.”

Don was going to ask why, but the truth was that Raphael had a lot to be sorry for, and they both knew it. So, Don just looked at his brother expectantly and waited for him to find the right words.

“What you said about me always thinking the worst, or however you phrased it… I guess that I do that… And I do get that… you were trying to tell us what you consider to be happy news, sort of.”

“Sort of,” Don coughed.

Raphael smiled a little. “Yeah, I just… I’m sorry if we kind of torpedoed you out of the water. I know that you were nervous about telling us, and I can’t imagine that’s how you wanted the conversation to go. And, I know that it’s mostly my fault.”

“It’s okay,” Don said softly. “I knew that no one would take it well, except for maybe Mikey.”

“I know that I probably shouldn’t have stormed out, too. But, let’s face it, I was only making things worse.”

“You needed space,” Don surmised. “It’s how you process things.”

“So, we’re okay, then?” Raphael asked.

“Sure,” Don said, reaching out to lightly punch Raphael on the arm. Don had such a headache. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Raph’s shoulder and go to sleep, but he knew that would be awkward. The turtles weren’t exactly the cuddly types, but that didn’t stop Don from longing for some type of physical affection right now. He was scared of all these changes and had been lonely for so long. The hormonal moodiness wasn’t helping either.

“I thought that I heard you come in,” Leonardo announced from his bedroom door. “Have a nice night?”

“Nice enough,” Raphael answered gruffly. “Want me to pound on you for a little while before breakfast?”

Leonardo smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Leo and Raph sparred in the dojo for an hour to blow off steam. Don rested on the couch until Michelangelo appeared to make breakfast. When it was ready, he called his brothers into the kitchen. Don was painfully aware that everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of his stomach as he shuffled in. He did his best to hide it and quickly took a seat. He felt very ill, but he was hoping that food would help.

Michelangelo presented everyone with omelets. His brothers quickly began to chow down, but Don sniffed his suspiciously, then poked at it with his fork. “Mikey… is there…. candy in this?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Yeah, dude. It's got bacon, spinach, pineapple, and jelly beans!” he announced proudly.

Don bit his lip in the hopes of suppressing his gag reflex. “Pineapple and jelly beans?!”

“Yeah!” Mikey said brightly. “I thought that pregnant women loved weird combinations like that!”

Don was already losing the battle with his nausea, but being compared to a pregnant woman really put him over the top. He didn’t want to be thought of like that! Don knew that he would never reach the bathroom in time, and ended up scampering to the sink where he proceeded to bring up stomach acid.

“Well, that about does it for my breakfast,” Raphael said as he pushed his bacon and cheese omelet away.

“Sorry,” Donatello moaned. When he was done, he collapsed back into his seat and looked sadly at Michelangelo.

“It seemed well-balanced: a fruit, a veggie, some meat, dairy and dessert. I honestly thought you’d like it,” Michelangelo defended. “I mean, you like pineapple on your pizza, so why not in an omelet?”

“Thanks for trying, but I can hardly keep normal food down,” Don said weakly. “If I start getting weird cravings, I’ll let you know.”

“Well if you’re not going to eat it, I will,” Michelangelo announced. He grabbed the plate and Donatello watched in horror as he devoured every bite of the strange concoction. When the show was over, Don got up again to make some toast and tea. Raphael had put a pot of coffee on. It was like being stabbed in the heart, watching the drops of precious liquid dribble out, but knowing that he couldn’t have any.

Raphael noticed Donatello staring. “Have as much as you want,” he offered. “I can always make another pot.”

“I can’t have caffeine,” Don sadly reported. “It’s bad for the babies.”

“Tea has caffeine too, you know,” Leo put in.

Don almost rolled his eyes. “Not nearly as much as coffee, and peppermint tea doesn’t have any at all.” The toaster dinged, and Don grabbed his food. He really needed to get a hold of that some ginger jam that Area 51 had kept in stock. It wasn’t particularly tasty, but it was good for his stomach. Why was he reminiscing about Area 51 again? Don shook his head and quietly nibbled on his dry toast.

“Ready for training?” Leo eventually asked.

Raphael bounced out of his chair, and Michelangelo rose with a groan. Everyone looked on in surprise when Donatello got up too.

“You’re coming?” Raphael asked.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” Donatello snapped.

“Because, you’re pregnant?” Michelangelo elaborated.

“Don’t call me that!” Don demanded.

Michelangelo was confused. He looked at Leo and Raph, but they offered no help. “Umm,” Michelangelo stuttered. “Call you what?”

“Pregnant!” Don spat.

“So… wait. Was this some sort of weird joke?” Mikey asked.

“No,” Don quickly supplied. “I just… don’t really like that word. I’m not a woman.”

“Okaaaay,” Michelangelo drawled. “How should we say it? Knocked up? Prego? Up the duff?”

“No! Just… I’m expecting. Let’s just say it like that,” Donatello requested.

“Okay. Well, are you sure that you should be training while you’re expecting?” Raphael asked.

“I was fine to do it yesterday, and the day before,” Donatello reasoned. “The only difference now is that you guys know.”

“But you seem so sick, and if I were you, I’d be using every excuse in the book to enjoy some downtime,” Michelangelo said.

“Well, thank goodness he’s not you,” Raphael quipped. “But still, you’re not looking too good, Donatello.”

“Will everyone stop telling me that!” Donatello begged. “I know that I look awful. I don’t need to keep hearing about it!”

Raphael ignored Donatello’s outburst. “I just meant that you’re not exactly in top form. What if we accidentally hurt you or something?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Don assured. “Besides, if I don’t practice and work out, I’m going to get even more out of shape than I am now. It’s going to be hard enough to get through the next few months as it is.”

“There are plenty of good ways to stay in shape that don’t involve combat training, Don,” Leo advised. “If you want, I can work on a new regimen for you.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Don asked. “Ninjitsu is what I know. I may not be as good as you, Leo, but I’m still pretty darn good.”

“No one said otherwise,” Leo quickly pointed out. This sure seemed like a major overreaction on Don’s part, but Leo had done some reading last night, and he knew that mood swings were to be expected.

“I’m still going to need to defend myself. Soon, I’ll have the babies to defend as well. If anything, I need to be more diligent about training,” Don reasoned.

“We can protect you while you’re…. in this condition,” Leo offered.

“I don’t want to rely on anyone else,” Don said, testily. “I can’t. What if our home gets broken into again? What if Bishop comes for me, or I get separated from you guys somehow? Then, there’s the threat of another Triceraton invasion.”

“Just because you take a break from training won’t mean that you forget how to fight entirely,” Raphael argued. “It’s not like you’ve got to lie down on the floor if Bishop comes for you.”

“Yeah,” Michelangelo agreed. “Like you said, you’re a darn good ninja. Your skills aren’t going to go away overnight. You might as well take the chance to kick back and relax for a while.”

“I can’t afford to relax,” Donatello countered. “I’m probably going to be gaining a lot of weight in a short amount of time. I’ll probably keep getting bigger, too. I need to keep training as my body goes through these changes, otherwise, I won’t stand a chance of defending myself when I’m further along.”

“Okay, okay,” Leonardo threw his hands up and relented. “If you want to keep training, we won’t stop you. I do think that we should make certain concessions, though.”

“Like what?” Donatello asked.

“Red shirt,” Raphael advised.

“What?” Leo said. The others looked just as baffled.

“I want him to wear a red shirt, like in football. It’ll make him stand out more, and remind us to go easier on him,” Raphael explained.

“Good idea,” Michelangelo agreed. “Can I have one too?”

Raph whacked Mikey on the back of the head. “Very funny.”

“Fine. I’ll wear a red shirt.” Honestly, Donatello liked the idea. He would have no way to hide his belly while fighting, but the shirt would help cover it up. “Anything else?”

“Just the obvious stuff. No kicks to the middle or the back. No knocking you down,” Leo listed.

“I can defend myself,” Don insisted. “My enemies won’t go easy on me, so why should you?”

“Don, right now you’re acting like we’re your enemies,” Leo noticed.

Donatello was going to argue, but then he realized that he was being rather combative and snippy. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m in a bad mood from not sleeping well… for the last three months,” Don added with a half grin.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leo replied. He put an arm around Don’s shoulders and led him into the dojo. Raphael fetched a red tee shirt from his room. Donatello quickly put it on and carefully tucked it into his belt so that it wouldn’t come loose.

Leo began the training session with meditation. He didn’t do this every day, but given recent events, it seemed like a good idea. Afterwards, he moved on to katas. Donatello tried to ignore that everyone kept glancing in his direction. Instead, he concentrated on his moves. As much as he had tried to practice at Area 51, he knew that he was rusty.

The turtle brothers had always been quite evenly matched, overall. Leonardo had the most finesse. Raphael was the strongest, Donatello was the most clever, and Michelangelo was the fastest. Still, the differences were barely perceptible.

Today, Donatello kept up with his brothers, but his breathing was off, his moves not as sharp. When they flipped across the room, he didn’t quite gain their height. He was a half step behind when they landed. Most people would have been pleased with themselves, particularly at three months along with triplets, but Don found himself getting frustrated and angry, which was unusual for him.

Next came sparring. Leo matched himself with Don, because the others clearly didn’t want to face him. Again, Don pretended not to notice how relieved Raphael and Michelangelo looked. He faced off with Leo, and it was abundantly clear that the leader was holding back. Don put up with it for a while. Then, when Leo made an unusually poor move that appeared to be just for show, Don swept Leo’s legs out from under him with his bo, causing the leader to crash to the ground.

“Nice, Donatello,” Leo praised. “Good job.”

“Oh, please,” Donatello griped. “Don’t patronize me, Leo. You clearly let me have that one.” Despite his harsh tone, Don gave his brother a hand getting up.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Leo disagreed.

Don wouldn’t back down. “We both know better.”

“I really didn’t do it on purpose,” Leo insisted. “I just got distracted.”

Don stared at Leo, knowing that his brother would keep talking if the silence got awkward enough. Sure enough, Leo dropped his head and continued. “It’s just weird seeing you in that shirt… thinking of you in that way.”

Don frowned. “It’s weird for me too. Hopefully, it’ll get easier with time.”

Leo wasn’t so sure. He was afraid that it would only get harder. From what little Leo had been able to see, Don’s pregnancy, or whatever he wanted to call it, was barely showing now. It was going to be awfully weird a few months from now, if Donatello did get bigger. Leo couldn’t imagine seeing his brother like that.

“I know,” Leo said, hoping that it sounded sympathetic. “Want to go again? I’ll try not to get distracted this time.”

In response, Don took a fighting stance.


	17. Chapter 17

April and Casey made their way to the Lair, carrying shopping bags full of supplies that the turtles had requested. Some of it was the usual fare, but there were odd items mixed in as well: crackers, soups, fruits, vegetables, peppermint tea, and ginger jam, which had been especially hard to find. 

“Yo, we’re here,” Casey hollered. 

Leonardo opened the door, but it was Donatello that April immediately sought. He had texted them to say that he was home from Area 51 last week, but they hadn’t spoken yet. It was unexpected, as the two chatted almost daily. More unusual still, Donatello didn’t get up to greet her. He waved from where he was hunched over on the sofa before immediately crossing his arms in front of himself again. He looked sad and exhausted, but at least he was home.

April crossed the room to give her best friend a proper hug. He returned it, but obviously tried to keep some distance between them. April wondered what on earth had happened to him at Area 51. He seemed so traumatized. 

“It’s good to see you,” April greeted. 

Donatello smiled, which was nice to see. “You too. I missed you guys.”

“We brought the stuff you asked for. Pizza too,” Casey announced. “Everybody dig in before it gets cold.”

Don was glad that it was pizza and not something that he couldn’t eat, like sushi. He planned to tell April and Casey about the babies after dinner so that it wasn’t hanging over his head. His nerves were making him feel sick. He took a single slice of veggie pizza and picked at it while catching up and making small talk. He did tell his friends about his time with Bishop, and the Triceraton project. 

Everyone finished eating, but they were still sitting around the table. April watched Don nibble the edge of the same slice he had been playing with all night. He’d been quiet for a few minutes now, and everyone had noticed. 

Finally, Leo cleared his throat and gave Don a meaningful glance. “If it easier for you, I can just tell them,” he offered. 

Don raised his eye ridges. April couldn’t tell if he looked upset or relieved. “Tell us what?” she asked. 

“There was something else that happened to me at Area 51,” Don said, slowly. “Something that will be kind of hard to believe.”

Casey laughed. “We’re used to things being hard to believe. We’re sitting in a sewer having dinner with a group of mutant ninja turtles, after all. I doubt you could say anything to surprise us.”

Raphael chuckled. “Oh, this will surprise you, alright.”

“Try me. Five bucks says I won’t be surprised,” Casey boasted. 

“I’ll take that bet,” Raphael quickly followed. 

“Me too,” Mikey agreed. “I want in on this action, for sure.”

Donatello closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to take the bet too, but he also didn’t want to delay the conversation now that Leonardo had gotten it started. Fortunately, Leo was above betting. He simply gestured for Donatello to go on. 

“When I was at Area 51, my first night, actually, Bishop did something to me. It turns out that he’d been trying to clone us. Not true clones, mind you, more like bioengineered versions of us that share some degree of genetic material with each of us four.”

“Why would he do that?” April wondered. 

“He was trying to create a super soldier for himself. We’re stronger and more durable than most humans. He wanted to use me in particular, due to my intelligence.”

“So far I’m not really surprised,” Casey bragged. 

“Just hang on,” Raphael urged, his lips curling a little. 

Donatello was actually rather grateful for the lighthearted banter. At least this was going better than when he had told his brothers. “Anyway, it turns out that he couldn’t successfully create the clones. They were unstable without the presence of mutagen during their development.”

“Thank goodness,” April exclaimed. She couldn’t imagine the consequences if Bishop had managed to clone an army of mutated turtles. 

Donatello gulped. April seemed so happy to hear that Bishop had failed, he dreaded telling her otherwise. Don looked to Leo, who urged him onwards again. 

“So, Bishop came up with a different plan, and on my first night at Area 51, he made some minor surgical modifications to some of my vestigial turtle organs. Then, he… he.” Don stopped to clear his throat. “He implanted the remaining three embryos into me.”

April’s mouth dropped open. “Don, are you saying that you’re...”

“Pregnant,” Leo finished for her. He then shot an apologetic glance in Donatello’s direction. He knew Don hated that word, but it had seemed to be the best way to explain things. 

Don gave Leo a forgiving nod, then he turned to April and Casey. April hated what she saw in his eyes. He looked so defeated, so beaten down. Beside her, Casey opened his wallet and slid out a ten dollar bill. “You’ll have to split it between ya, I don’t have anything smaller,” he mumbled. 

Raph snapped up the money before Michelangelo could grab it. Don winced at the sudden motion. “Guess no one saw it coming after all,” he said sadly. 

April wanted to believe that this was just some sort of joke, but she knew that Don wouldn’t kid around about something like this. His brothers clearly weren’t laughing either. Raphael was looking at the money in his hand as though it had offended him. Poor Don seemed so upset, and everyone else just looked mad and embarrassed, so April did the one thing that she knew Don needed most. 

She got up from her spot at the table, put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a side-hug. “That’s wonderful, Donatello!” She didn’t really mean it, not yet anyway. But, he clearly needed someone to simply be happy for him. 

Don looked like he could cry. “Really?”

“Of course. You’ll make a great dad!” That part was true anyway. Don had all the trappings of a wonderful father. He was so patient and kind, gentle and loving. 

Donatello stood up and gave April the hardest hug that she had ever received in her life. “Thank you,” he whispered. His relief was palpable, even making her tear up a little.

April wiped her eyes. “So have you thought…” She cleared her throat. “Have you thought about names?”

“No. I’ve got a while to go,” he answered. 

“Of course you do. When are you due?” April asked. 

Don shook his head. “Maybe around Thanksgiving. Hard to say for sure.”

April put a hand over her heart. “Babies for the holiday season, that would be amazing.”

“I… I guess it would, yeah,” Don admitted. 

oOo

April and Casey’s walks home after visiting the boys were always interesting, but this one took the cake. 

“Can you believe-“ Casey started. 

April cut Casey off. “No, I can’t believe it.”

“But you sure seemed like you were able to wrap your mind around it pretty quickly,” Casey observed. 

“Not really,” April countered. “It was just that Don obviously needed somebody in his corner and nobody else seemed to be stepping up. Didn’t you notice how distraught he looked?”

“Yeah, I guess. He seemed to be taking it all right, though,” Casey considered. 

“I’m not so sure,” April disagreed. “It’s not like he ever expected to go through anything like this. I mean, could you imagine if it was you in his place?”

Casey stopped in his tracks and yelled. “April! That’s disgusting!”

“Quiet down,” April ordered. “And make sure that you don’t say anything like that around the guys.”

“I get that it’s not like Don can help it. It’s just so weird, though.” Casey shivered. 

April started walking again. “I know. Everyone else obviously feels weird about it too. Don especially, I’m sure.”

“And did you get a load of his stomach?” Casey asked as he ran up behind his wife. 

“I certainly felt it that second time we hugged, but I tried not to look. It was clearly making him uncomfortable,” April noted. 

Casey nudged her. “Oh, you looked. Just admit it.”

“Fine. I looked,” April conceded. “But, only a little. I didn’t gawk like everyone else, Casey.”

“I wasn’t gawking, just trying to see,” Casey defended. 

“Just don’t do it again. Don obviously doesn’t like it,” April scolded. 

“Fine,” Casey surrendered. “By the looks of things, it won’t be long before there’s no hiding it anyway.”

“Probably not,” April agreed. “Don’s going to need a lot of help from us. He’s already asked me to pick up some prenatal vitamins. He also wants to get started on building an ultrasound machine right away, so I’ll be spending some time helping him with that. We should also offer to help with baby stuff. I doubt that he’ll know what to get, and he has a lot of bigger things to worry about, with the whole Triceraton thing.”

“What do we know about baby stuff? It’s not like we’ve ever talked about it ourselves,” Casey considered. 

April was a little offended, and turned to glare at her husband. “That doesn’t mean that I’m totally clueless. I certainly know more than any of the turtles do about these things.”

oOo

When April next visited Donatello two days later, he seemed to be a little more relaxed, after the lab door closed behind them, that is. 

Don had been spending his nights thinking about the babies and attempting to sleep between bouts of nausea. He spent his days training and working in the lab, also in between bouts of nausea. He spent his afternoons crunching data from Valeria, and his evenings patrolling for the sake of getting back into shape while he still could. His brothers had been fighting him tooth and nail, but he insisted on going. All of this had left Don exhausted, but he needed to prioritize the ultrasound machine. 

Don let out a deep sigh as he closed the lab door behind him. He gave April a goofy but winning grin as he approached his work desk. For once he didn’t feel the need to hide his girth, and April gave him a quick once over. If anything, he looked small, given how far along he was with triplets, but she understood how self-conscious he felt about his condition showing at all. 

“Before we get started, I have something for you,” April said. She handed Don a paper bag containing the prenatal vitamins. 

“Thanks. I think that Bishop included all the vitamins that I need within the hormone vials, but better safe than sorry. From what I’ve read, there’s no real harm in taking extras, given my metabolism and characteristics.” Don took a swig of water and swallowed one of the pills. April had also purchased an extra calcium supplement. Don thought that it would help as his babies formed their shells. 

“You’re certainly taking this seriously,” April complimented. 

“Yeah,” Don agreed. “I know that I have to be careful if I want them to be healthy. The odds are stacked against us. That’s why this ultrasound machine is so important. I need to catch any problems early so that I can make a plan about what to do.”

Don showed April his blueprints for the machine and the parts that he had already gathered from dump runs and his personal stash. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair to stretch, then began picking at a granola bar in the hopes that eating something dry and solid would help him keep the vitamins down for longer. 

“How are your brothers handling things?” April asked. “They seem to be keeping their distance. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A bit of both,” Don answered as he chewed. “They’re not happy that I’m still training and patrolling, but I think that they understand why it’s so important to me. Leo has been trying to take my side, I think. He’s been pretty quiet overall. Raph has been going off on his own a lot, but that’s sort of normal for him since Dad died. Mikey has just been watching TV and playing video games. He doesn’t usually get away with so much screen time. I think, deep down, they’re worried about things going wrong with my health. I really want to finish this ultrasound machine as fast as I can. Once they see with their own eyes that everything is okay, my bros should feel a lot better about this.”

“It’ll be nice to see those babies of yours, too,” April smiled.

Don’s gaze grew dreamy. “Seeing them is really something. I last saw them a week or so ago, but they’re changing so fast now that I bet they look totally different already,” Don noted. “Hopefully once they see them, my brothers will fall in love with them too.”

“I’m glad to see you seeming so happy. I know this can’t be easy for you, and you’ve seemed so distant since you came home.”

“It is hard, but I don’t mean to be distant. I’m just trying to give everyone the space and time that they need to get adjusted. This isn’t new to me, but it is to everyone else.” Don sighed. “I just wish that I’d gotten free before I started showing. It’s only making things weirder.”

“Oh please, it’s hardly noticeable,” April dismissed. 

“Not for too much longer, I’m afraid,” Don mourned. “The last few days, I’ve woken up each morning feeling bigger than the day before. It's like my plastron has softened enough that I’ve reached some sort of tipping point.”

April wanted to ask if she could feel his belly, but it seemed so intrusive. Instead, she put her hand on his shoulder. “If it’s bound to happen anyway, there’s no use in worrying about it. It’s only temporary anyway.”

“I know. It’s just weird feeling everyone trying to catch a glimpse all the time.”

“That’s just the way it is,” April soothed. “It happens to human women too.”

“My brothers and I have always been the same. Other than skin color, we’re virtually identical. I was always the different one because of my brain. This is just really making things even more awkward. After being gone for three months, and now going through these obvious changes, it’s making me feel like an outsider,” Don complained. 

April rubbed her hand up and down the tensed shoulder that she was already grasping. “Oh, Don. I doubt that your brothers feel that way.”

“Maybe not. I do think that the hormones are getting to me,” Don admitted. “That’s part of the reason that I’m making myself a little scarce. I’ve been so moody since I got home.”

“Really? Your behavior seems normal enough to me.”

“My behavior may be normal, but I’m working hard to control it.” Don pinched between his eyes in frustration. “My emotions are all over the place.”

April chuckled. “Sounds about right.”


	18. Chapter 18

Despite his family’s concerns, Don insisted on patrolling alongside them. He claimed that it was to stay in shape, but in truth, he didn’t want to feel even more left out than he already did. 

He tried not to take any major risks. He stayed mostly in the vehicles and on the rooftops. He created a protective vest that was strong and flexible in the front, with plenty of elastic sewn in at the shell, so that he would have room to grow. He only joined in fights when necessary, and he took special care to protect himself whenever he did so. He stayed in the back, allowing his brothers to shield him, and the second any sort of projectile, be it throwing star, arrow, or anything else came out, he disappeared into the shadows. He promised that he would only make exceptions when lives were at risk, or when his special skills were needed. 

But tonight, he had an important mission.

As Don had worked on the data from the satellite feeds, he had noticed an aberration. He and Valeria had studied it, and they had both come to the same conclusion. There were communication signals being sent from Earth to the Triceraton homeworld, and they were originating from New York. 

At first, Don had been terrified. He assumed that it meant that there was a hidden contingent of Triceraton remaining on earth. But then, it occurred to him that Bishop’s spies embedded within the Triceraton army had been able to communicate with Bishop on Earth. Who’s to say that it didn’t go both ways? Perhaps the Triceraton had human spies here in New York, equipped with some sort of intergalactic communicators. That was a slightly less terrifying prospect, anyway.

Don managed to build a receiver that would better pick up on the New York to Triceraton communication. Whatever this group was, they weren’t using the same ship-to-ship communication system that Don had programmed the EPF satellites to track. They were going directly to the Triceraton homeworld, which could be just the breakthrough that Donatello and Valeria needed. 

Don set aside his work on the ultrasound machine and focused solely on monitoring the data feed for a few days. He was still unable to determine if Triceraton soldiers were hiding in the city, or if they were human sympathizers. 

Donatello brought his concerns to Leonardo, and together they decided to locate the source of the signal and check things out. 

Don stayed close to Raphael as they approached the point that the signal was originating from. When they reached the edge of the rooftop, all four brothers leaned over. Don pulled his infrared scanner out of his trusty brown duffle and put it on over his eyes. 

“What do you see?” Leonardo asked. 

“Three heat signatures in the apartment. They’re big, but I don’t think they’re big enough to be Triceraton.”

“Maybe they’re not home,” Mikey guessed. 

“Is there an active transmission right now?” Leonardo wondered. 

Donatello flipped the infrared goggles up and checked his tablet. There had been a message sent right before the turtles left the Lair, but now the data feed was silent. “No. I guess we wait.”

“In the meantime, why don’t you tell us what you’ve overheard so far?” Leonardo suggested. 

“Not a lot,” Don answered. “What I have heard is far more interesting than the ship-to-ship gossip I’ve been getting before, but the transmissions are few and far between.”

“No names have been mentioned?” Raph wondered. He was really worried about Traximus. They all were. 

“No,” Don sighed. “I can tell you all about the affair between the chief engineer and the security officer on board one of the ships, but these guys here hardly talk at all.”

“What is it that they do say?” Leonardo asked, indicating the apartment. 

“Strings of numbers, mostly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard any chit chat.”

“That’s worrisome,” Leo grumbled. “Could be anything - coordinates, some sort of code...”

“I’m worried too,” Don confirmed. “I’m keeping track of absolutely everything. The numbers don’t make sense yet, but we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Leo wondered who ‘we’ was. His family? EPF? Don and this Valeria person?

Donatello opened a spreadsheet on his tablet and frowned. It contained a log of everything that had been sent from this location. As far as Don could tell, whoever was in this apartment was sending messages, but not receiving them. That didn’t necessarily mean that they couldn’t receive data or messages, only that Don hadn’t observed it happening yet. He really wanted to get to the bottom of this. 

Don worked silently for fifteen minutes or so. His brothers quietly chatted on the other side of the rooftop, just to kill some time. 

“Stop itching your sides,” Leonardo said, startling Don out of his reverie. How had Leo appeared right over his shoulder like that?

“What?” Don asked. 

Leo smiled. “Stop itching your sides. You’ve been doing it all night.”

Don looked at his hands as though they were those of a stranger. “I have? I didn’t even notice.”

“One of your absent-minded tics, I suppose,” Leo decided. “Best to stop a bad habit before it forms at all.”

“Yeah,” Don agreed. 

A few minutes later, he caught himself beginning to itch again. Don got up to stretch, in order to distract himself. “I wish that I could get a hold of whatever device they’re using to transmit their data. It’s got to be some pretty sophisticated tech,” he said to Raphael. 

“I’d be willing to sneak in and check it out for you,” Raphael volunteered. “All this standing around ain’t my style.”

“There are three heat signatures in there,” Don reminded him. “Best to stay safe and wait for another transmission.”

Raphael shrugged and tossed a stray pebble into the air, then caught it. Donatello leaned back against the wall next to him. “At least it’s a nice night,” Don observed. “Early summer and not a cloud in the sky. Feels like we could see forever.”

Raphael gave a low chuckle. “See any Triceraton ships headed our way?”

Don laughed. “If only it were so easy.”

Just then, Don’s phone began to vibrate. It was an alert from his workstation at home. “Another transmission!” he gasped. 

Leo put on Don’s infrared goggles while Don kept his eyes trained on his tablet. He turned up the volume as Raphael and Michelangelo huddled beside him. 

“All three heat signatures are together in the rear bedroom,” Leonardo announced. 

At the same time, a deep, masculine voice could be heard from the tablet. “Delta 142.3532, gamma 869.3521, epsilon 49, q-86v2.”

The feed quieted down again. “It’s over,” Don announced. 

“They’re leaving the room,” Leo told his brothers. 

“That was English. They must be humans, right?” Michelangelo asked. 

Don tapped his chin. “Or Triceraton using translators. Why would they do that, though?”

Raphael growled. “Damn curtains. Wish we could see inside.”

“Patience, Raphael,” Leonardo preached, sounding way too much like Splinter for his red-banded brother’s liking. “We don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

“They have to come out of that apartment eventually,” Michelangelo said. “Can’t we just stick up a surveillance camera or something?”

Don grinned. “Like this one?” he asked as he pulled a small item out of his bag. “Want to do the honors and plant it?”

Michelangelo did just that. Then, Don made sure that it was working properly before the turtles began their walk back to the Battle Shell. 

“You gonna tell Bishop about this?” Raphael asked. 

“I don’t talk to Bishop,” Donatello replied. “But, I will tell Valeria. She can do whatever she wants with this information.”

As they passed a pizzeria, Don’s stomach growled. He cringed and put a hand over it. They’d just eaten an hour and a half before. “Excuse me,” he mumbled. 

Raphael shrugged. “Better than you puking again.”

“It’s so concerning to me that anyone on earth is communicating with the Triceraton Homeworld,” Leonardo said. “Even if it is just human sympathizers.”

“How do you even know that’s what they’re doing?” Michelangelo asked Don. 

“The existing SETI network, plus the new satellites that were launched just before I broke out of Area 51 are all devoted to interpreting data coming from, or in this case going to, the Triceraton part of space. I’m no expert in intergalactic communication, but I know enough to be able to figure out the basics of what’s going on here.”

“Even if this turns out to be something relatively innocent, we need to be prepared either way,” Leonardo advised. 

Donatello nodded “I agree. I’m not only working on intercepting communication. I’ve also started designing a system that will hopefully keep earth safe in the event of an invasion.”

“Is it a Death Star?” Michelangelo bubbled. “Please tell me it’s a Death Star!”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not a Death Star,” Don apologized. 

Michelangelo moaned in disappointment, and Donatello pet his shell. “Don’t worry. It’s still kind of cool, in its own way.”

Raphael had stopped walking and was looking behind them. “What’s up Raph?” Leonardo asked. 

Raphael spoke tentatively. “I don’t know. I just thought I heard….”

As Raphael fell quiet, the others tensed up as well. A mountain of a man stepped out of the shadows. “Hun!” Leonardo spat. 

“Hey, Hunny. It’s been a while,” Michelangelo greeted. 

“Don’t call me Hunny,” Hun growled. 

“Hunny bear? Hunny pot? Hunny Pie?” which do you prefer?” Mikey teased. 

In response, Hun tossed something hard at Michelangelo’s chest. “I believe this is yours, freak.”

Michelangelo caught the item and looked down. In his hands, he held the remains of the camera that he had just planted. “It was too young to die,” he mourned. 

“That’s enough, Michelangelo,” Leonardo yelled. “What’s the meaning of this, Hun?”

“Stay out of my affairs, turtles,” Hun growled. 

“Your affairs?” Don asked. “What does any of this have to do with you?” Hun had fallen off the turtles’ radar years ago. Since Karai gained control of the Foot Clan, he’d been keeping quiet. Now that Don thought about it, that did seem a bit suspicious. 

“Doesn’t matter. This is my part of town,” Hun snarled. “You aren’t welcome in it.”

“Since when have you been able to stop us?” Michelangelo laughed. 

Hun leaned over to get eye-to-eye with Mikey. “I’m warning you nicely.”

“Do you know what’s going on in that apartment?”  
Don couldn’t help but ask. 

“Astronomy club,” Hun snickered. “But we’re not serving party food tonight, so I doubt you’d be interested, tubby.”

Don ignored the cheap shot at his expanding girth. “Astronomy club? So, you are connected to all this!”

“Quit sticking your ugly snout in where it doesn’t belong,” Hun warned. 

“Pretty sure this is exactly where it belongs,” Don barked, refusing to back down. 

Hun whistled and a half dozen Purple Dragons stepped out of the woodwork. The turtles reached for their weapons, and Raphael and Leonardo stepped protectively in front of Don. 

Donatello really didn’t want to fight, but he pulled out his bo anyway. Just as he did, his stomach growled loudly again. Hun laughed out loud. Why did this battle have to go down in the alley next to a pizzeria? How embarrassing. 

Hun made the first move, going straight for Raphael. Raph dodged away from Hun’s huge fist and caught him around the wrist. He leaned in and body-checked Hun back a step.

A Purple Dragon leaped forward with a baseball bat, and Leonardo chopped it in two with one of his swords. The Dragon used the jagged spike that remained to slice at Leo, who took a step back towards Don. 

The remaining dragons surrounded the combatants. Donatello used his bo to sweep the legs out from under a couple of them. Michelangelo then knocked one unconscious with his nunchucks. Don and Mikey smiled and nodded at each other, then jumped into the fray. 

Raphael was keeping Hun distracted while Leonardo systematically took out Dragons. Michelangelo sidled up next to Raph and resumed teasing Hun. Mikey’s jeers kept Hun on his toes, allowing Raphael to land some punishing blows. 

Donatello backed his shell against Leo, bumping it to let his brother know of his presence. Leo kicked the nearest Dragon away and spoke over his shoulder. “We’ve got this. Why don’t you head to the Battle Shell and we’ll meet you there when we’ve finished these guys off?”

Don twirled his bo and cracked a Dragon across the chest, sending him crashing to the pavement. “But you guys are outnumbered!”

Leo ducked low to dodge a fist, then leaped up again and snap-kicked his assailant in the shoulder. “It’s no big deal, we’ve got this.”

Hun managed to bat Raphael into Michelangelo and the two turtles fell to the ground. Don immediately pole vaulted over to them, making sure to plant his bo down on a nearby dragon’s foot as he did so. He kicked Hun hard in the arm, just as he reached for Raphael. 

“I said stand down, Donatello!” Leo yelled. 

By now, Raphael and Michelangelo had regained their feet, and Leonardo had made it to their sides. Raphael cracked the butt of his sai into Hun’s ribs. Leonardo spun into a lotus kick that caught Hun in the back. The giant crashed to the ground. Michelangelo hit him with a nunchuck in the back of his shoulder on the way down. 

Donatello stepped back out of Hun’s landing zone. The pavement shook under his feet. One of the Purple Dragons was immediately there. Don sent a fist back, but the Dragon saw that Don was slightly off-balance and hip-checked him. Don dropped low to prevent a fall, placing one hand on the pavement, then popping right back up. The encounter was harmless really. Nevertheless, Leo shouted, “Don - Battle Shell! NOW!”

Don knew better than to continue fighting Leo on this, especially now that Hun was down and the battle was essentially won. He hoofed it towards the van. “Better skedaddle,” he heard Hun yell in his wake. “It’s buy-one-get-one night at the burger shack!”

“Big talk from a guy who just got his massive butt handed to him,” Don heard Michelangelo quip. He had to smile a little at his brother jumping to his defense. 

Don got to the Battle Shell and let it idle. Sure enough, his brothers joined him less than two minutes later. 

“So what do you think Hun has to do with all of this?” Don asked by way of greeting. 

“Who knows,” Leo grumbled. “We’ll figure it out in time. But Don, you can’t be doing that!”

“Doing what?” Don asked innocently. 

“Jumping into fights that we could easily handle without you,” Leonardo clarified. 

“Excuse me?” Don snapped. “I hardly jumped into anything. We were ambushed, for crying out loud!”

“You had plenty of chances to run, but you refused!” Leonardo pointed out. 

“And it's a good thing that I did because Hun was just about to get a hold of Raph before I intervened!”

“I would’ve rolled away if I wasn’t so worried about knocking you down in the process,” Raphael defended. 

Donatello had nothing to say to that. Raphael probably would have gotten away. His brothers were elite ninjas, after all. They knew how to handle themselves. “Fine. I’m sorry. Next time I’ll run.”

Leonardo was still perturbed. “Next time you’ll listen?”

“What more do you want from me?” Don asked. 

“For you to follow through on your promises,” Leo answered. “You know, next time.”


	19. Chapter 19

Don was feeling a lot more pregnant these days. His belly was growing ever more noticeable as the hormones did their job softening the cartilage of his plastron. It seemed like it had suddenly hit some critical point where it had lost enough rigidness to begin really stretching out. He was already tying his belt much looser than before, and now he would sometimes get uncomfortable enough that he needed to stop and let it out even further during the course of the day. 

Unfortunately for Don, reptilian skin isn’t nearly as good at stretching as human skin. Don realized that the reason he had been so itchy was that the scaly skin between his carapace and plastron was starting to shed as his plastron buckled outwards. Shedding was an embarrassing problem that he and his brothers had dealt with during growth spurts. At least Don was getting used to being embarrassed by now. 

His nausea was beginning to subside somewhat, but it had left a voracious appetite in its place. He would eat all day if he could, but the strange looks that his brothers gave him led him to stop before he’d had his fill. His feet were swollen, and his fingers too. It made typing pretty difficult. He was constantly exhausted, and still prone to headaches, but worst of all was the back pain. 

Don had been suffering from it for a while now, but the bigger and heavier his triplets grew, the worse it became. Most pregnant women have some degree of back pain, but Don’s was more complex. Due to his mixture of human and turtle anatomy, he had both a spine, and a shell. While turtles’ spines are completely fused to their shells, Don’s was only fused on the top and bottom. The middle part of his spine was free in his back like a human’s. In the spots where his shell and spine weren’t connected, there was a thin layer of flesh between them. Now that Don’s babies were growing, they were pushing his spine into his shell, bruising the flesh in between. It was so tender and painful, but there was nothing that could be done to soothe it. As a bonus, he was beginning to have periodic bouts of numbness in his legs due to pinched nerves. 

Don had designed a garment to redistribute the increasing weight of his belly. He hoped that it would even out the pressure to a broader portion of his shell. The problem was that it looked ridiculous - sort of like a body-shaping undershirt. On the bright side, it did cover up his shedding scales, which were currently peeling off of his sides in sheets. In his mind, the best solution was to wear clothes and simply cover the whole mess up. To that end, he had asked April to do a little personal shopping for him. 

When he had a few private moments, Don pawed through the bags that April had brought. He picked out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt and tried them on. The clothes easily hid his support garment, and they were so soft and cozy. A little shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. There were some plush slippers in there as well, which gave his aching feet some much-needed padding and support. 

Don walked out the door and was headed to his computer, when Leonardo stopped him. “New clothes?” Leo asked. 

“Yeah. This gestation process is messing with my body temperature regulation. I’m hoping this will help.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The primary purpose of the clothes had been to cover up the shedding and the support garment, but Don’s strange mix of warm and cold-blooded characteristics had been all over the place lately. One minute he was freezing, the next he was burning up. It seemed to be caused by the hormones and metabolic changes. 

“They look comfortable,” Leonardo said awkwardly. “Anyway, the guys and I were hoping that you could talk for a bit.”

“Oh.” This was a surprise, but there was no point in avoiding it. Leonardo led Donatello into the living room where Raphael and Michelangelo were already seated. 

“Hey, I didn’t know that this was going to be a fashion show!” Michelangelo teased. “I would’ve worn my Turtle Titan costume.”

“Can it, shell-for-brains,” Raphael ordered. “This is serious.”

Donatello gulped. “Uh-oh.”

“No uh-oh,” Leo promised. “We only want to talk to you.”

“Okay. Well, you have my attention. Fire away,” Donatello urged. 

Leonardo cleared his throat. “We thought that it would be a good idea to get everything out on the table. Have a nice, open conversation.”

“About the babies and I?” Don guessed. 

“Yes. I know that we didn’t handle your announcement all that well, and obviously we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye about your decision to keep training and fighting. That being said, you’ve been making yourself awfully scarce, Donatello. Are you mad at us, or avoiding us?” Leonardo stopped speaking and looked to Donatello. 

“No,” Don replied. “I’ve just been busy building the ultrasound machine and dealing with Triceraton stuff, and now this wrinkle with Hun. Plus, I kind of figured that you needed space and time to get used to things.”

“And, we appreciate that. We do,” Leo affirmed. “But, it’s been a couple of weeks now, so I think that it’s time to start talking things out.”

“Okaaay,” Donatello drawled. 

“Well, first of all, how are you feeling?” Leonardo asked. 

Donatello gulped. He was feeling lousy, but he had been for months now. “Um, fine, I guess. No major changes.”

Leonardo crossed his arms, sternly. “And you’d be honest with us if there were changes, or anything potentially worrisome, right?”

“I would,” Don promised. 

“And you’d be honest with yourself too, right? Because you’ve got a pretty terrible record where that’s concerned,” Raphael spoke up. 

“I know that’s how you guys feel, but I can be totally transparent about everything, if it would make you feel better,” Don offered. “I’m tracking everything that I can think of: blood pressure, pulse, weight, abdominal measurements. I’m monitoring all of that every morning, as well as running a urinalysis dipstick test that checks for ten different parameters. I’m also setting up my lab instruments to run bloodwork for hormone levels and other markers. Once that’s up and running, I’ll check it once a week. I’m making good progress on the ultrasound.”

Leonardo nodded. “And all indication is that you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’m happy to show you the records, or you can even run the tests yourself if you prefer.”

“That won’t be be necessary,” Leonardo replied. “We just want you healthy, Don. Unfortunately, you’re the only one remotely qualified to make that judgement, so I suppose you’re both doctor and patient.”

“I guess. I’m being really careful, though. I swear. I recently discovered that I’m anemic, so I’m trying to get more iron,” Don explained.

“You don’t seem to be getting sick quite as often,” Michelangelo observed. 

“Not quite so much,” Don agreed. “My appetite is growing, but I still haven’t gained back all the weight I lost, believe it or not. My back is hurting lately. It's bad enough to keep me awake at night, but I’m dealing.”

“You might want to rest more,” Leonardo recommenced. 

“Leo,” Don said warningly. “You know where I stand.”

“I do, but hear us out,” Leonardo requested. “I know that you feel like it’s essential to stay in shape, and it’s true that you’re a very important member of our team.”

Don smiled nervously. “Thank you.” 

“But,” Leo raised a finger, “I’m not sure that you’re taking long term considerations into account.”

“What do you mean?” Don asked. 

“It seems like you’re doing a great job monitoring your health-“

Don cut Leo off. “I’m planning for the future too. April can do a c-section if needed. We’re getting the tools, and I’m writing up instructions, decision trees-“

Now Leo turned the tables and cut Don off. “I meant longer term. What about after the babies are here?”

Don was baffled. “What do you mean? Like, if something is wrong with them?” 

“No. I mean even in the best case scenario, when there are no health problems at all,” Leonardo clarified. “What will you do with them every day?”

“Oh. Well, they’ll be babies. They’ll entertain themselves, right?” Don cast his eyes around searchingly. 

“Maybe so, but you’re so insistent upon training and patrolling so you don’t lose a step. Do you really think that you’ll be able to join us on missions after they’re born?” Leonardo wondered. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Don asked. 

“Who will watch them, Don? You can’t just leave them alone,” Leonardo pointed out. 

“I know that!” Don blurted. Truthfully, Donatello hadn’t really thought about it. He’d been so busy dealing with the Triceraton, building the ultrasound machine, training, and everything else. “I’m sure April and Casey would pitch in, maybe even Angel.”

“Pitch in sure, but think of how our missions turn out,” Leonardo considered. “Sometimes we’re gone for days, even weeks. We never know what’ll happen when we walk out that door. Would you really ask that of our friends? How would they work or go to school if you had an extended absence?”

Donatello didn’t have an answer ready. “I guess… I could build some sort of robotic sitter…”

“Like Rosie from the Jetsons!” Mikey yelled. Everyone ignored him. 

“You’d trust your three newborn babies with a robot nanny?” Raphael said sceptically. 

“Maybe not. Our human friends would be my first choice, but I could build a robo-nanny that they could use in case of unplanned long term absences.” Donatello clasped his hands protectively around his middle. Even as he was saying it, he knew he could never leave his babies in the care of a robot, no matter how sophisticated. They would need real love and attention at all times. 

“Regardless of what contingency plans we put into place, I don’t think that you’ll be patrolling nearly as often. You’ll be a father. Your place will be with them,” Leo advised. 

“I think that you’re right about that much,” Don reluctantly agreed. 

“So why not take a step back now?” Leonardo asked. “I know why you don’t want to, but you’re so busy with other projects. It’ll be good for your back, and if you’re anemic then more rest can’t hurt.”

Don frowned. “I know that my condition makes you uncomfortable, but-“

Raphael leaned forward. “We’re not just uncomfortable. We’re scared for your safety!”

“I told you that you’re welcome to check my medical log. I-“

“No matter what those logs say, anything can go wrong at any time,” Leonardo correctly pointed out. “Pregnancy is a strain. You could have a sudden heart problem, or an aneurysm or hemorrhage. Women still die during pregnancy and childbirth, even when everything seems fine. And these are people with proper medical care, normal babies, and normal non-mutated bodies. And you’re carrying triplets, Donatello. Triplets!”

Don felt his lips begin to quiver. “So what would you have me do? Go back to Area 51 and put myself under Bishop’s care?”

“No. Of course we don’t want that,” Leonardo insisted. “But, there are other places that you could go, places where you could have proper medical care, and places where you and the babies would be accepted by society.”

“Like where?” Don wondered. 

“Back to the future would be one option,” Raphael considered. “Usagi’s homeworld would be another.”

Donatello took a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t know. We’re unique creatures. I don’t think that doctors would know what to do with me, even in the future. And, Usagi’s homeworld seemed to rely more on herbal and folk remedies. Just because they were able to handle Leo’s poisoning doesn’t mean that they would know what to do about… this.”

“If you don’t like either of those options, there’s the Utrom homeworld. I’m sure that Professor Hunnicut and Leatherhead would be able to get you seen by the right people,” Leonardo replied. 

“How would we get there?” Don asked. “We don’t have a spaceship or access to a portal. Even if I knew how to get in touch with them, it would take them months to reach earth and get me back there. I’d have already had the babies by that time.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Raphael mused. 

“What do you mean?” Don wondered. “I thought that getting proper medical care for the triplets and I was the whole point.”

“Well, it’s not the whole point,” Raphael put in. 

“There’s also the matter of what is best for the babies,” Leonardo added. “Do you remember when we brought up adoption, and you kind of blew it off?”

Don cringed. “I absolutely remember that. It sort of upset me, if I’m being honest.”

Leo sighed. “We don’t want to upset you. We just want to make sure that you consider all of the options available to you. Because I’m sure that there are all sorts of families in Usagi’s world, or the Utrom homeworld or even the future who would love those kids. And, let’s face it, what kind of life can we offer them, really?” 

Donatello was perilously close to bursting into tears. He knew that the hormones had a lot to do with it, but he swore he could feel his heart shattering. “You… you don’t want the babies? You don’t think they’ll be happy here?”

“No!” Leonardo quickly shouted. “Please don’t get upset, Don. That is not what we’re saying!”

Donatello gulped. “What… what are you saying then?”

“It’s just that we’ve been talking, and all of us are in a weird position here. Not just you,” Leonardo explained. 

“I know. I get it,” Don said softly. 

“I’m not sure that you do,” Leo said. “I know these kids are mostly yours, genetically, and that you’re the one carrying them as well. But, they belong to the rest of us too, at least partially.”

“Yeah,” Don whispered.

“We don’t know where we stand… or what our roles are supposed to be. Do we… do we get a say at all, in anything?” Leonardo wondered. 

Don hadn’t thought of it that way. Had him hiding away come across as possessive? “Of course,” he said, trying to sound firm despite his voice wavering. “All of our lives, we’ve done everything together. We’re in this together too.”

“I’m glad that’s how you feel, because it hasn’t really seemed that way.” Leonardo rubbed his temples. “I think that we can all agree that you’re the primary decision maker. Have you given much thought to what you want life to look like after they’re born? Given your approach to training and health care, it seems like you don’t want much to change, but it will, Don. Our lives will look nothing like they do now.”

“I guess I thought that I’d still be able to do everything that I do now, just less often. I know that I won’t be able to work in the lab as much.”

“You still want a lab?” Raphael wondered. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Don asked. 

“Aren’t you scared about the babies getting into things?” Leonardo fretted. “You’re so careful, but even you have accidents.”

“I can lock the doors and babyproof it. That way there will be double protection,” Don promised. 

Leonardo nodded. “Okay, but when will you find time to work? Three babies will keep you busy.”

Don wriggled uncomfortably. “I guess I thought that one of you guys could watch them if I needed to work in the lab. I know I’ll have less time in there, but I didn’t realize that you guys wanted me to get rid of the lab entirely.”

“We don’t. We’re just talking, Don,” Leonardo insisted. 

“So, you are prepared to be Mr. Mom? To have these kids take over your whole life?” Raphael asked. 

“Prepared or not, it’s going to happen, right?” Don pointed out. 

“If it’s what you want. But if you don't, there’s adoption,” Leonardo answered. 

Don bit his lower lip before speaking. “Why do you guys keep bringing that up? Clearly it’s not what I want.”

“Haven’t you considered what they might want? Do you really think that a life in the sewer here with us is what’s best for them?” Leonardo asked. 

“Hasn’t it always been good enough for us?” Don replied. 

“I don’t know. Has it?” Raphael put in. “We’d have to essentially seal ourselves up in here, given the amount of trouble that we get into. Are you ready to go back to the way things were before? Even you don’t seem to be, never mind the rest of us.”

Raphael was referring to the turtles’ early lives. When they were little, Splinter didn’t let them go to the surface unless there was an emergency. It wasn’t until recent years that they had known true freedom. 

“It doesn’t need to be as extreme as when we were little,” Donatello insisted. “Splinter was alone. He couldn’t read, and didn’t understand human ways. There were four of us to only one of him.”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be that extreme, but those kids would be better off somewhere that they’d be accepted into a society and not hidden away. You would be better off too, if we chose a place with good medical care.” Leonardo trailed off as he saw Donatello try to hide that his lip was quivering. 

Raphael stepped in to say what Leonardo wasn’t strong enough to voice. “Don, you know how I feel. It’s hard for me to even picture this future, because I just can’t see you surviving pregnancy and birth. I just can’t get past it. But if I do push that aside and try to think about the kids - Man, I just can’t see us raising them here. Can you? Do you really think that it’s what’s best for them? for you? for all of us? I mean, do you really think that we’re ready to be dads?”

At that, Don had an outburst. “Do you guys understand that I love them? Maybe that’s the part you’re missing! I know I’ve been hiding a lot from you because of the weirdness of this situation and the fact that, frankly, I’m embarrassed. But, I love them! We’re bonded to each other, and I can’t imagine separating from them. Is that what… is it what you guys want?”

Mikey hadn’t said anything yet, so he stepped in now. The others were muted due to Don’s display of heartfelt emotion. Donatello was shaking like a leaf. “You know how I feel. I’m totally psyched to be the fun uncle.”

“You’ll be more than just an uncle. You get that, right? It’s not gonna be just fun and games,” Raphael grumbled. 

“Well, the other three of you guys are so good at being serious. I guess I see that as my role,” Michelangelo insisted. 

“What do you want for the babies, then?” Leonardo asked. “In a perfect world?”

“I’m with Don,” Michelangelo announced. “We stay down here and raise them and otherwise try to keep things mostly the same.”

“That’s so childish, Michelangelo. Things won’t be the same. Not by a long shot,” Raphael argued. 

“What do you want to do then, Mr. Grumpypants?” Michelangelo wondered. 

“I want to take Don someplace where he and the babies can be properly cared for, and I think… I think… Shell, I know we’ve been dancing around this issue but I’ll just come right out and say it. I think that the babies would be far better off if they were raised somewhere other than here.”

Don had stayed quiet while Raphael spoke, afraid of breaking down completely. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “You don’t want them, do you?” he cried. “You want me to give them up, to leave them behind!”

“No. I just think that we should consider it. That’s all this is, Don. That’s all. Don’t get so emotional,” Raphael begged. 

“I’m sorry. I guess… I do acknowledge that there are far better places than a sewer to be raised,” Donatello quavered. 

“Yeah. And I’m not saying we couldn’t stay with them. Everything is on the table, as far as I’m concerned,” Raphael placated. 

Donatello sniffed and wiped his eyes. “What do you think, Leo?”

Leonardo looked surprised. “Me?”

Don nodded. Leo thought for a minute. He only wanted to moderate a discussion. He hadn’t really formulated a strong opinion yet. “I do agree with Raph about you getting actual medical care, and I do feel that you should be taking it easier.”

Leonardo hesitated. “I’m also scared that this place isn’t safe enough. Since Dad has been gone, it’s been a real struggle just getting through day-to-day life. Do we really want to add children into this mix? I’m not sure that I can keep them safe here, never mind happy and healthy. And, maybe they would be better off if they were in a place like Usagi's world, where they could be out in the open, enjoy the sunshine, make friends, go to school, have a real future… and a real family.”

Donatello was horrified. “Are you saying we aren’t a real family?” Don had never considered otherwise, and Leo was supposed to be the leader of this supposed family!

“No!” Leo insisted. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, these are genetically engineered mutant children that we are talking about, with mixtures of all of our DNA. Am I an uncle or a father? And what about you? Are you the father or mother? I know how optimistic that future that we all lived in with Cody was. But, once they get to that future, assuming that they even do, how will they explain things? They’ll be so different as it is. How will this… family background affect them? Wouldn’t it be easier for them to have a more traditional arrangement - a mom and a dad? We always wanted a mom, right? And, they wouldn’t even have to know how they were created or where they came from. They could just have nice, normal lives.”

Don began trembling again. “Oh my… you don’t… you don’t want them either?!”

Leonardo put his hands up. “Stop jumping to conclusions! I was just thinking out loud. We need to consider all options. We need to really talk this through, not just sit on our hands and live our daily lives and hope for the best.”

“And we all have skin in this game,” Raphael pointed out. “These are our babies too, in some way. I know it’s uncomfortable and it’s a hard conversation, but we should all decide together what is best for them. Not just you because you’re the… carrier.”

“Okay,” Don whispered. He ran his hands down his face to cover the fact that he was now openly crying, then returned them to protectively embrace his swollen belly. “You’re right about all of that. I don’t think that I can take anymore of this right now though.”

“Okay,” Leo agreed. “Let’s just process all of this and think some more. We can talk again in a day or two.”

Don wandered back in the direction of his room. “Are you okay?” Leo called to his retreating shell. 

“Yeah,” Don lied, not bothering to turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left a kudos or a comment. They are all very much appreciated.


	20. Chapter 20

Over the next couple of weeks, Donatello tried to be more considerate of his brothers’ wishes. He stopped sparring with them. Instead, he did his own katas and devised a new exercise regimen. He did a lot of pull-ups and used the punching bag a lot more. He ran in the sewers for miles each night. For all of this, he wore wrist and ankle weights. He still practiced with his brothers every day, but only at three-quarters speed. 

He also took a step back during patrols. He didn’t go with them as often, and when he did, he tried to stay in the van. He stopped leaping rooftops, which was probably a good idea anyway. His belly was popping out more and more, and keeping his balance was becoming increasingly difficult, as his center of gravity shifted a little more each day. 

Every night over dinner, the guys talked about their latest feelings about the babies. Ultimately, Don was the one carrying them, so even though everyone was more open about voicing their opinions, it was becoming apparent that Don’s thoughts seemed to count the most. Even if it were to come down to a vote, Michelangelo continually sided with Donatello. The both of them wanted to continue on with their ‘normal’ lives. Although Michelangelo worried about Don’s health, he trusted his genius brother to take care of himself. Leonardo and Raphael could argue until they were blue in the face that Don needed a real Doctor, but it fell on deaf ears. So, it appeared as though the guys were staying in New York and raising the babies themselves. 

All of the tension, combined with Don’s changing appearance, made for an awkward atmosphere around the Lair. The guys dealt with that as teenage boys do - by horsing around and teasing each other in a desperate and somewhat misguided attempt to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, Don was usually the target of everyone else’s shenanigans. Normally he would have joined in, or simply let things roll off his back, but that was hard for him now. He seemed to have an emotional reaction to just about everything these days, and he often ended up getting his feelings hurt. But, being so sensitive was embarrassing in and of itself, so he tried to pretend that he was okay. 

The sofa was old, and had always creaked when someone sat down on it. But, when Don had attempted to settle in for a movie night and it had been a little louder than usual, Michelangelo had laughed and offered to move to the floor ‘just in case,’ with a playful gesture at Don’s swollen middle. Don tried to laugh it off, but his movement only caused the sofa to squeak again, and this time Mikey actually did get down, much to Raphael’s delight. Don knew it shouldn’t bug him, but a few minutes later he made up an excuse to disappear into his lab for the reminder of the night. 

One day, Raphael had found a baby-on-board bumper sticker, and managed to adhere it to the back of Don’s shirt during practice. It might’ve been funny if Don was in on the gag, or if he hadn’t needed help getting it off after he finally figured out why everyone was laughing. Don felt like the butt of a joke, and was practically in tears, but Raphael didn’t notice. He just gave Don a playful punch in the arm, and explained that they needed to use something, since the usual red shirt was in the laundry that day. Don could tell that Raph meant no harm, so he tried not to hold a grudge. But still…

Then there was Leo, who seemed to be attempting to become an expert in pregnancy. After dinner one night, Michelangelo had presented Donatello with an entire sheet cake that had ‘We’re sorry for whatever we did wrong’ written in icing. Don actually might’ve laughed at that, if Leonardo hadn’t immediately launched into a lecture about how Don needed to be on a healthy diet right now. Mikey had responded by pointing out that Don wouldn’t have eaten the entire cake in one sitting. Raphael muttered ‘wanna bet?’ under his breath, and Don decided that everyone and everything was offensive, including the cake, and stormed off. He could hear Leonardo explaining to the others that Don was just cranky because of his hormones. While it may have been at least partially true, it made Don feel completely belittled. 

But, life went on, and Don couldn’t hide away forever. There was all sorts of work to do, both important and mundane. After Splinter died, his sons sat down to figure out a fair division of household duties. Leonardo did most of the cleaning, as he found it therapeutic. Raphael did most of the shopping, since it gave him an excuse to get out of the Lair. Donatello did most of the maintenance, since he was best at it anyway. Michelangelo did most of the cooking, since he was the most skilled. Given that cooking was the most time-consuming job, the other brothers took turns cooking dinner on weekends so that Mikey could have a break. Leo took Friday, Raphael Saturday, and Don Sunday. 

Everyone hated Sunday dinner. Despite his talent for chemistry, Don was a horrible chef. He didn’t really mind cooking, but his food tasted terrible. For whatever reason, he never seemed to notice. 

It was a Sunday, and Don had been reminded several times that it was his turn to cook, but he was in the home stretch on his ultrasound machine, and kept forgetting and losing track of time. Finally, Raphael got tired of waiting and cooked up a big batch of extra spicy beef and bean burritos. Don had been suffering from heartburn, and couldn’t eat spicy food anymore. Everyone had been avoiding it out of sympathy, but Raphael did love spicy food - the hotter the better. The way he saw it, Don was shirking his duty, and clearly didn’t care about dinner anyway. Really, he was doing Don a favor, as now he only had to worry about feeding himself. 

Leonardo was cleaning up when Donatello finally emerged from his lab. Don scowled at the strong and unwelcome aroma of Mexican spices. “You guys ate without me?” he whimpered, taking a hard swallow.

Leo looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. We figured that you were busy. There’s leftovers, but everything was pretty spicy, so you might want to make yourself something else.”

Don was embarrassed and a little hurt. “Oh. I’m sorry that I forgot. I’ll cook tomorrow instead.”

“Don’t worry about it. No one was upset. Besides, it was Raph who cooked, not Mikey,” Leonardo explained. 

Leo finished washing the dishes and dried his hands. “Are you going to eat now? It’s probably not good for you to be skipping meals.”

“I guess I should,” Don answered. He was feeling a little sick, but sometimes eating helped with that. 

“You know, you’re going to need to be more diligent about these things in the future,” Leo advised. 

“I told you, I’ll make up for it,” Don grumped. 

“No, I meant sticking to an eating schedule in general. You’ve always been one to skip meals and forget to sleep. Your babies won’t be able to do that. You’re going to need to keep better track of time.”

“You’re right,” Don agreed. “I’ll try to work on that.”

“You should work on your cooking skills too,” Leonardo suggested. 

“You’re one to talk,” Don snapped. Leo was universally regarded as the second worst chef, just behind Don.

“I know I don’t exactly have the high ground here,” Leo admitted with a kind smile. “But, you’ll be cooking for those kids far more often than anyone else, and kids are notoriously picky eaters.”

For a moment, Don wondered why he would be cooking more. Cooking was Mikey’s job. Then, Don realized that he would be left behind with the kids when the others went on patrol and on other adventures. He wouldn’t be able to stop for a quick slice of pizza after a battle, and it would be tough to ferry three babies through the sewers to have dinner with April and Casey. The others would likely keep doing those things. Maybe they would even do it more, just to have a break from the kids. 

Don sighed. “You’re right about that too, of course. I’ll work harder at cooking from now on. I’ll watch some of those cooking shows with Mikey.”

Leo offered to keep Don company, but Don dismissed him. He was cranky and he knew it. He also figured there was no time like the present to start practicing, and he certainly didn’t want an audience for that. 

He decided to make himself a grilled cheese sandwich. He was craving high-calcium food lately, and he had heard that kids generally liked grilled cheese. Plus, it wasn’t anything that would exacerbate his heartburn. 

Don considered this to be simple food, so he didn’t bother looking for tips online. He’d made grilled cheese before, and while it hadn’t been great, it was at least edible. Knowing that he usually burned it, he put the stovetop on low. He pulled out some bread, cheese, and butter, then wondered if he should butter the bread, or just the pan. He almost asked Mikey, but he always did learn best by experimenting. 

Don’s first sandwich was burned on the outside, but the cheese on the inside hadn’t melted. He scraped the burned part off and ate it anyway. It wasn’t too bad, in his opinion, and he’d gotten pretty hungry while cooking. He turned down the heat even further and made another sandwich. He had to add extra butter to the pan because of the burned part that was left over from the first sandwich. It must have been too much butter, because the second sandwich was soggy. Again, he ate it anyway. At least this time the cheese was melted. Don looked to the kitchen door. Once he started eating, it was hard to stop. His brothers had definitely noticed, and it was embarrassing. No one had interrupted him so far, so Don made a third sandwich. 

He realized that this was not a well-balanced meal, and decided to make some soup. To Don’s dismay, there was only broth. Don cut up some carrots and celery, tossed them into the broth, and set it to simmer on the stove. He threw in a handful of spaghetti as well. He figured that he needed protein, and decided to add chicken. Don was trying to remember if he needed to cook the chicken first, when the smoke detector began going off. He’d forgotten about the sandwich. 

Don grabbed a chair and pulled the batteries out of the smoke detector. It was hard-wired as well, so it kept beeping. Don managed to reset it. When he got off of the chair, he saw Leonardo standing at the ready with the fire extinguisher. Raphael was right behind him. 

“False alarm,” Don coughed. “I burned a sandwich.” At this point, the soup began boiling over. The broth hit the burner and the smoke detector began going off again. 

“What’s going on?” Mikey asked as he entered. 

“Don found a way to burn soup,” Raphael laughed. 

“I did not,” Don snapped. “I just overcooked a grilled cheese a little.”

Leo looked at the charred sandwich. “A little?” he asked wryly. He then used a spatula to launch the smoking black brick into the sink. It sizzled when it hit. 

Mikey examined the pot of almost-soup with interest. “You’re not using a big enough pot. That’s why it’s boiling over.”

“It wasn’t that full before I started adding stuff,” Don defensively pointed out. Of all turtles, he was fully aware of how displacement worked. He just hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Did you toss whole strands of spaghetti in there?” Mikey asked. “Usually I use egg noodles, but if you’re going to use spaghetti you should have at least broken it into smaller pieces first.”

“Whoops,” Don snarled, with an unusually sharp edge to his voice that no one picked up on. 

Raphael noticed the chicken sitting forgotten on the cutting board. “Were you just going to put that in there raw? Do you want food poisoning?”

“No!” Don snapped. “I just hadn’t gotten around to cooking it yet.”

“Why did you start the sandwich first?” Leo asked. “It’ll be cold by the time the soup is ready.”

“Maybe that’s why he let it burn: to keep it hot enough to go with the soup,” Mikey joked. 

“Oh, ha ha,” Don yelled. “Donatello can’t cook. His children will starve, if he doesn’t kill them with food poisoning first! Isn’t it soooo funny?!”

“Don?” Mikey said softly. He hadn’t meant to come across as mean. 

“So funny, right? That I have no idea what I’m doing?” Donatello continued ranting. He looked ready to cry. Raphael put his hands up and backed out of the kitchen. Shows of emotion were not his favorite thing, and Don had been having a lot of them lately. The kitchen was the last place that Raphael wanted to be. He turned into a ghost for the remainder of the night. 

“If you needed help cooking, you should’ve just asked,” Michelangelo placated. “I could’ve talked you through it.”

“It’s your night off,” Don shouted. “And goodness knows you deserve it, because I left you to your own devices when I stayed at Area 51, and I can’t help out as much on patrols. All I do around here is fix things. I can’t even remember to eat and sleep without help. I’m useless! No wonder no one wants to be around me!”

“Where’d you get that idea?” Leo asked gently. 

“You guys didn’t wait for me to eat! We always eat together,” Don shot back in a loud but wavering voice. 

“We didn’t want to bother you,” Michelangelo said. “You’ve been so busy with all of your projects.”

Don bit his quivering lower lip and went back to the stove. He recognized that he was overreacting. “Just leave me alone. I need to figure out how to do this stuff.”

Leo went to stand next to Don. “Hey, there’s no need to be so upset. This is just… a mood swing or something.”

“You think?!” Don snapped, sarcastically. 

“Let me help you with the soup,” Mikey insisted. We can have the leftovers tomorrow.”

“Just leave me alone,” Don whimpered. “I need to figure out how to do this alone.”

“You don’t need to figure it out alone,” Michelangelo soothed. 

“Yes, I do,” Don insisted. “I do. Please just go.”

Leonardo caught Michelangelo’s eye and gestured towards the door. Donatello had always preferred to process things on his own, so Leo knew he really did need space right now. 

Don made plain spaghetti and vegetable soup and a cold ham and cheese sandwich. It was a poor excuse for a dinner, but he didn’t want to risk food poisoning. He knew that it had been a hormonal mood swing and that he should probably apologize. Instead, he wallowed in his misery before going to bed early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Don’s been having a pretty rough stretch. In the next chapter, he gets some much-needed support from a few of the ladies in his life.


	21. Chapter 21

Angel knocked on April’s door at the appointed hour. She was expecting the night to be strange, to put it mildly. She hadn’t seen Donatello in almost six months, only to suddenly hear from April that he was pregnant. Angel was a very street-smart girl, and had encountered a lot of weird things since she had met the turtles. Not a lot could take her by surprise, but this sure did.

April opened the door, and Don stood up from where he was sitting on the sofa. He was wearing clothes, which was unusual for the turtles, but not entirely unheard of. Angel could see his belly noticeably protruding beneath his tee-shirt. She had assumed that he wasn’t all that far along, and wasn’t quite prepared for that sight. Don blushed and hunched over when he noticed her slack-jawed stare, but he approached her for a hug anyway. 

“Hey, it’s great to see you, Don! How are you feeling?” she asked, loudly. 

“Fine,” Don fibbed, the white lie made obvious by his downtrodden demeanor, and the stiff manner with which he was embracing her, yet still holding her at a distance. 

“So, congratulations!” Angel was painfully aware that she sounded way too forced and enthusiastic - not at all like herself. 

“Thanks, I guess,” Don muttered. “So, uh, thanks for coming.”

“Hey, you’re welcome, buddy!” Angel put her head in her hands. “Ack! I’m so sorry. I know I’m being weird.”

Don actually laughed at that, much to Angel’s relief. “Yeah. That’s usually my job,” the turtle chuckled. 

Feeling that the ice was broken, Don sat back down on the sofa, crossed his arms over his knees, and leaned forward. 

“Come on, Don, there’s no need for that here. Bad posture isn’t good for your back, and we all know that you’re expecting. After all, it’s what we came to talk about,” April lectured. 

Don sat up straighter, feeling admonished. “Force of habit,” he explained.

“I know.” April sat down next to her friend and gave his shell a sympathetic rub. “It can be difficult with your brothers. Teenage boys aren’t exactly known for properly handling emotions, and you’re super-sensitive right now. We want you to feel free to talk to us about anything and everything that you’re going through. Angel and I are far more used to dealing with this stuff then your family is, and believe me, you’re going to feel a lot better if you’re able to talk to someone.”

“Yeah,” Angel agreed. “I know it’s usually me coming to you guys for help, so when I heard about this, I was just glad to be able to offer support for once. You see, I’ve had some friends who have been in similar situations, and I’ve tried to help them through. Of course, they were also able to see doctors, and the school counselors, and they all had at least one parent. Although the parents weren’t always all that helpful in these cases. But still, they had people to help them out, and you need that too. So, here I am.” Angel winked. “One of your people.”

Don smiled genuinely. “Thanks, Angel. That really means a lot to me. I know I’m not always the best about talking about emotions and asking for help, but you’re right that I definitely need it. I’ve been kind of a basket case lately.”

“Well, you’re dealing with a lot of different stuff lately,” Angel said. “Stuff that you weren’t expecting, stuff that’s going to change your life forever. You’re bound to react emotionally.”

“That’s the funny thing. I’ve always been good at cooping things up inside. That’s how I deal with them… or maybe not deal with them. But either way, I’ve never been prone to outbursts; I’ve never been one to cry. This whole thing has just thrown me for a loop. I’ve had more breakdowns in the past few months than I’ve ever had in my life,” Don mourned. “Feels like I’m falling apart.”

April threw her arm over Don’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Oh, Donnie. You’re okay. That’s just a natural reaction to stress, and I’m sure those synthetic hormones you have to take aren’t helping matters.”

“Hormones do mess with your moods sometimes,” Angel agreed. “Being women, we’re kind of used to that sort of thing.”

“I’m not a woman,” Donatello whined. “And, I don’t want to be thought of that way just because of this.”

“I meant April and I. We know you’re not a woman. Those big muscles of yours sort of give you away.” Angel had hoped that complimenting his masculinity would calm the turtle down a little, but Donatello didn’t have much of a reaction. 

“You and April never seem to lose control of your emotions,” Don noted. 

“We just know how to deal with them,” Angel replied. 

“We can teach you some coping mechanisms if you like,” April offered. “But from where I stand, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you learned to be less afraid of your feelings.”

“I know that everyone thinks that I don’t know how to cope, but now isn’t the time for a sweeping psychological overhaul. I’ve got enough else on my plate,” Don huffed.

“Then what do you want to get out of this?” April asked. 

“I want to not break down into tears or freak out on my brothers at the drop of a hat. I want to learn more about babies and how to take care of them. My brothers and I have never really even been around a baby. And I want…” Don trailed off. 

“What do you want, Donatello?” April urged. 

“To… to feel like I have friends, and support. I can’t really talk to my brothers right now. They don’t understand what I’m going through. I know that you guys haven’t really been through this either, but I need people to talk to… advice.” Don got a little choked up and stopped talking. 

April smiled. “You came to the right place, my friend.”

“If you want to talk, then talk,” Angel invited. “We’re all ears.”

April looked at Don expectantly. 

He coughed. “Right now?”

“Why not? Just say what’s on your mind,” Angel encouraged. “Tell us how you’re feeling, and answer honestly this time!” 

Don looked down at his hands. “Well, I’m feeling… hungry. Like all the time, and it’s weird because I still get sick so much. A few weeks ago I had to force myself to eat, but now I just can’t seem to stop.”

April grinned. “Is that your way of asking me for a snack?” 

“Nooooo… it’s just that it’s making an awkward situation even worse. Leo is watching me like a hawk, and he doesn’t approve of unhealthy eating. Raph hasn’t complained, but I know he’s keenly aware of how much we’re spending on food, and how fast we’re going through it. They’ve been teasing me about it. I don’t think they’re doing it to be mean, but it’s hurting my feelings. I’ve gotten so self-conscious about my eating that I’m hiding food in my room, and in the lab, and garage,” Don admitted. 

“We’re definitely getting you a snack then,” April vowed. “People in your condition need a lot of food. You shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“We should order pizza!” Angel declared. 

Don’s stomach growled in response. He blushed and put a hand over it. April chuckled. “What toppings sound good, Don?”

Don never got to choose the toppings. Raphael and Michelangelo always did. Being the soft-spoken and peaceful types, Leonardo and Donatello just went along with whatever the others wanted. “Would extra cheese with mushrooms and olives be okay?” Don asked tentatively. He had really been craving olives, but he knew that some people found them gross. 

“Whatever you want,” April promised. 

“Could we maybe get some mozzarella sticks too?” Don quietly requested. “I’ll pay you back,” he quickly added. 

“Nonsense. It’s my treat. Payment for all the stuff that you’ve fixed around here through the years,” April replied. 

Don thanked her, and April ordered the food. Meanwhile, Angel was tapping on her phone. “It says here that you need to eat 340 extra calories per day in the second trimester. It goes up to 680 for twins. So, it must be 340 per baby. That means triplets would be 1,020 extra calories per day that you need right now.” 

“Feels like I’m eating a lot more than that,” Don said, glumly. “I mean, I know that I’m bound to get big, but I don’t want to get too big.”

“Well, if you can’t keep it down for very long, it probably doesn’t count. Plus, they’re mutants, so maybe they need more calories than an average baby,” Angel theorized. 

April frowned. “Don, please tell me that you’re not thinking about restricting your food intake right now. I know that you don’t enjoy seeing yourself like this, but not getting enough food would be dangerous for both you and the babies.”

“I know,” Don said unhappily. “I’m not about to start dieting or anything. I just wish that it was healthy food that I was craving instead of junk. It just feels like food is one of my only comforts right now. But, I can’t very well just sit down and eat an entire bag of potato chips with a gallon of chocolate ice cream, because not only is it unhealthy, but Leo will give me that disapproving look of his, and Raph will notice that it’s gone, then complain about needing to buy more. And, I’ll look down at how big I’m getting and…” Don stopped talking and shook his head in defeat. He paused for a moment before continuing. “But no, I’m not restricting my overall food intake. I couldn’t if I tried. I’m just trying to eat healthy and not give in to my cravings.”

April thought about the many meals that she had shared with the turtles. “Teenage boys are famous for their appetites. You’re young, very muscular, and extremely active. Not only that, but you’re still growing yourself. Of course you need a lot of food, and indulging in cravings once in a while is hardly going to kill you. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be embarrassed about their diet, it’s Michelangelo,” Angel agreed. “If the guys are bugging you, just tell them to buzz off.”

“I know that I shouldn’t feel bad, but I do anyway. We don’t have a lot of money, and I feel guilty that so much is being spent on food for me, when half the time I can’t even keep it down. And the teasing hurts, even though I know it shouldn’t. I’m just so sensitive right now. I hate it,” Don mourned. 

“Have you told your brothers that the teasing bothers you?” Angel asked. 

“No,” Don said quickly. “I don’t want them to know that it does. We’ve always been able to kid around. Things are weird enough as it is without them feeling like they have to walk on eggshells around me, any more than they already are.”

“I can talk to them,” April offered. “They don’t even need to know that you asked me to. I can just be general, explain the effects of the hormones, and make sure that they know you need support.”

“I’d rather just learn how to deal with my feelings,” Don mumbled.

“And by ‘deal with,’ you mean continue to avoid?” Angel pointed out. 

“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound all that great,” Don realized. 

“Remember that this is short term. Five or so months from now, it’ll all be over,” April reminded him. “It’s understandable if you’d rather just get through this, and hide away as much as possible.”

“Five months sounds like a long time to me,” Don said as he looked downwards with a bit of fear in his eyes. “And, who’s to say that I’ll go back to normal afterwards? Parenthood does funny things to people. Doesn’t it?”

“Okay. Then figure out a healthy way to deal with things. If you don’t want to talk to your brothers, that’s fine, but don’t let things eat you up inside,” April advised. “Talk to us, laugh it off, take your rage out on a punching bag, have a good cry - whatever it takes.”

“Have a good cry? That sounds so feminine,” Don complained. 

“Perhaps you should try it. It would be better for you than keeping things bottled up. It’s only going to be that much worse when you finally do break down,” April said. 

“Okay. I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“No!” Angel giggled. “Do it right now! Cry, Donnie, cry!”

Don appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, and pretended to break down in tears. When they were done laughing, they went in to discuss some other things that Don couldn’t talk to his brothers about, like pregnancy aches and pains, and his many fears for the future. They had a nice snack, 85% of which was consumed by Don. Then, they got down to talking about child care. 

Don took a bite of the last slice of extra large pizza. “I think that I know what sort of materials and supplies I need. What I don’t know is how to behave around babies.”

“Why would you behave any differently than you do now?” Angel asked. 

Don shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t they scare easily? What if I’m too loud, or move too fast?”

“I don’t think that you have to worry about that,” April said. 

Don nodded. “What about baby talk? I heard it’s bad for language development, but I also heard that they’re more responsive to it.”

April and Angel looked at each other. “I can’t imagine that it matters much either way,” Angel finally said. “I’m not much of a baby-talker, personally, but that’s just because I find it annoying.”

Don finished off his slice. “I heard that newborns need to be fed every two hours, but I don’t know how long each feeding takes. Will I just be feeding kids nonstop all day long?”

“Probably,” Angel answered. 

“And, babies like to be held, right? How do I hold all three? I know that baby-wearing is a thing, but you can’t wear three at once, right?”

“I doubt it,” Angel supplied. 

“Do you think a backpack type holder would work? My shell is broad in the back. Maybe I could fit two there, and one in front?”

Angel shrugged. “Maybe.”

“This would be hard enough with just one baby. Three will probably kill me,” Don moaned. “But again, I feel like I can’t say anything in front of the guys, because they’ll just point out that adoption might be a better choice.” 

“But, you want to keep them, and Mikey agrees. Can’t that discussion just be over?” April asked. 

“It sort of is, but I still feel badly about complaining,” Don replied. “The obvious answer is that they should help me out, but so far, that part hasn’t been discussed.”

“Why not?” Angel asked. “These are kind of their kids too. At the very least, they’re a part of your clan. Wouldn’t the others want to help?”

“It’s my choice to keep them, though. That means that most of their care is on my shoulders. It wouldn’t be fair of me to force the others to help if they don’t want to.” Donatello sighed. “Mikey wants to play with them, at least. I guess that’s something. Can’t imagine him changing diapers or getting up in the middle of the night, though.”

April snickered. “I share your skepticism.”

“I miss my Dad,” Don lamented. “He’d know what to do, if he was still here. And, everyone would just fall into line.”

Angel silently put a hand on his shoulder. Donatello was close to her own age, and she couldn’t imagine being orphaned, on top of everything else that he was going through. 

“He’d be proud of you, you know,” April said, solemnly. “And he’d want you to be kinder to yourself, maybe even relax a little.”

Don nodded, but his eyes were defiant. “It’s hard to relax with everything going on. On top of adjusting to my new circumstances, there’s the risk of the Triceraton invading, there’s my work.”

“Isn’t the government handling that?” Angel wondered. Sometimes she wished that she wasn’t privy to all of this frightening information. 

“I’m helping… a lot,” Don answered. 

“Well, the Triceraton may or may not invade, but these babies are coming either way,” April considered. “Preparing for them has to be a priority.”

Don rubbed between his eyes. “I just wish that I knew what I was doing. So much of this is guesswork - how my body will handle this, how the babies will be born, if they’ll be okay, how I’ll react to fatherhood, what the babies will be like, how big they’ll be, what they’ll eat, how my brothers will behave. I just feel like… I don’t know nearly as much as I should.” Don gave a bitter chuckle. “I’m not used to that. I’m usually the answer-turtle, but the answers to most of my questions will only come with time.”

“I think most parents-to-be feel that way,” April said. 

“Most parents have doctors,” Don pointed out. “Most have been around other pregnant people, and been around babies. I’ve never even been anywhere near a human baby. How am I supposed to know what to do with mine?”

“I’ve got access to a baby,” Angel spoke up. “We can get you some hands on experience.”

“Oh, that would be amazing,” Don praised. “Granted, I’ll have three, and they’ll be non-human, but I’d be so grateful for any sort of experience with a baby.”

“I’ll set something up,” Angel promised. 

By the time Donatello left April’s apartment, he felt much better. It had been so nice to talk openly about how much he was struggling, without fear of being judged. Don knew the expression ‘it takes a village to raise a child.’ He was beginning to realize that it would also take a village to get him through this.


	22. Chapter 22

Donatello snapped the casing into place over the guts of the ultrasound machine and screwed it securely into position. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair and put a hand on his belly. “What do you say?” he asked his triplets as he tapped the machine with one thick finger. “Shall we give it a test run?”

Don looked down as if awaiting an answer. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you. Anyway, no time like the present, right?”

Don didn’t feel the need to lie down, or to use any gel quite yet. He just wanted to see what sort of refinement might be needed. He rolled his shirt up and moved the wand down to his belly. The computer monitor displayed black and a little gray. He played with the settings, then moved the wand some more. A clearer picture was displayed, and Donatello realized that he was looking at his intestines. He chuckled and adjusted the settings again. Upon further movement of the wand, he was able to zero in on one of the babies. 

The picture wasn’t as clear as Bishop’s had been, but Don could hardly expect his homemade creation to rival what was, no doubt, a state of the art machine. “Hello again,” Don greeted with a relieved smile. He was looking at the back of a shell, or at least he suspected that he was. “Might be better with gel,” he said aloud. 

What looked to be a foot appeared on the screen. Given the angle, Don knew that it must belong to one of the other babies. He chuckled. “What are you guys up to in there? Playing some sort of game?”

Just when Don was considering getting up to grab the gel, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Donatello knew that it had to be Raphael. Leonardo’s footsteps were always silent, and Michelangelo’s were never this heavy. Heck, Raph’s were rarely this heavy. This was what Raphael sounded like when he was trudging off to do a task that he was dreading. Don cringed. Nice to know where he stood. “What’s up Raph?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“I was thinking we could…” Raphael trailed off. “Those the babies?” he asked after a moment. 

“Yes,” Don answered. “One or two of them anyway.”

“So you’re done with the machine?” Raphael assessed. 

“More or less. I think that I could still improve the image quality. I’m going to ask April to come down and run an exam,” Don explained. “We’ll see how it does.”

“You know, you’re really something, Donatello,” Raphael praised. “I don’t know how you manage to figure this stuff out.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Don said humbly. “Real ultrasound machines are much more sophisticated. They can see a ton more detail, tell you which way blood is flowing, and even take measurements.”

Raphael shrugged. “The picture looks pretty good to me. Besides, no one knows what a baby mutant turtle would look like, so you’d have nothing to compare the measurements to anyway.”

“That’s true,” Don agreed. “All I really need this bad boy to do is look for obvious flaws. I’m not going to be measuring heart chamber size or anything.”

Raphael’s eyes remained fixed on the image. While it was out of character, Donatello felt the sudden urge to clown around. Maybe it was because things had been so stressful and intense lately. Maybe it was because Raphael had behaved like talking to Donatello was a chore. Maybe he was simply in a good mood. 

Regardless of the reason, Don made a goofy voice when he saw how seriously Raphael was watching the babies’ movements. He attempted to throw his voice towards the machine. “Heya Uncle Raphie!” 

Raphael turned around to stare at his genius brother with a confused look. 

“Will you get us a puppy when we come out?” Don continued out of the corner of his mouth. “Dad says it’s too much responsibility for newborn babies, but we can handle it!”

Raphael just stared. “What are you doing?” he asked Don, in his usual gruff tone. 

Don smiled devilishly as he went on with his weird, fake voice. “Oh, come on. If you don’t get us a puppy then Uncle Mikey will. You don’t really want Mikey to be our favorite uncle, do you?”

“I think that’s inevitable anyway,” Raphael confessed. At least he was smiling a little now. 

“No puppies, then,” Donatello said in his normal voice. 

“No puppies,” Raphael agreed. 

Don removed the wand from his belly and the screen went black. He twirled the wand like a miniature bo staff. “You know, this is good for more than just looking at babies. We can check out all sorts of internal stuff with it. I can take a look at your duodenum if you like.”

Raphael shook his head. “No thanks.”

“Your jejunum?” Donatello offered. “Your hepatopancreatic ampulla?”

Raphael declined. 

Don chuckled. “If you’re not into that, we can jam it down your throat and see you from the inside out.”

Raphael actually laughed at that. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just happy to have gotten this thing finished,” Donatello answered. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Well, that’s kind of why I stopped by,” Raphael replied. 

Donatello leaned back in his chair. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time for me to take control of the vehicle maintenance,” Raphael explained. “It’s going to be pretty hard for you to do it when…” Instead of finishing with words, Raphael grimaced and indicated the shape of a big belly with his hands. 

Donatello frowned. He was suddenly keenly aware that he had forgotten to roll his shirt back down, and quickly tugged it into place. He didn’t like to think about getting bigger. He also couldn’t help but think about the sorry condition of the van when he got back from Area 51. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to trust Raphael with his mechanical baby. 

“And after the little guys are born, they’ll be keeping you busy. It’d be good for me to take this off your plate. I mean, I’m already a pro with the bike, right?” Raphael finished. 

“Sure,” Donatello admitted. He didn’t know what he was agreeing to. This had caught him off guard. 

“Well, I don’t expect you to start now, but we should probably start soon,” Raphael suggested. “You’re puffing up faster than a blowfish.”

Donatello shook the cobwebs out of his brain. “Start what?”

Raphael chuckled. “Start my lessons, knucklehead.”

“Oh. You want lessons? In mechanics?” Donatello finally realized. 

“Just because you can instantly figure out how to fix or build anything doesn’t mean the rest of us can,” Raphael said, sourly. “So yeah, lessons would be helpful.”

“No. I mean, of course,” Donatello stammered. “I’ll teach you whatever you want. Maybe just not right now. I’m kind of tired.”

“Okay,” Raphael said. “You look like you could use some rest, so I’ll just leave you be. Oh, and I’m going grocery shopping tomorrow so write down whatever you want on the list. And for the love of Pete, please write down quantities as well. If you’re going to eat three jars of peanut butter a week, tell me now, so that I don’t have to keep running back and forth.”

Donatello was going to utter a sarcastic “ha-ha,” when he realized that he truly had gone through three jars of peanut butter this past week. He had taken a liking to ants on a log, and it had seemed like a cheap way to consume good fat and extra calories. Apparently, it had gotten out of hand.

Donatello apologized and promised to write some stuff down, then he said goodnight to Raphael. He found that he was in a sour mood afterwards. It didn’t help that he was hungry, but felt guilty about eating. Instead, he decided to call Valeria - both to keep his mouth busy, and because she never failed to cheer him up.

“Hey Val, it’s Don,” he said, glumly, even though he was the only one capable of calling the old shell cell.

“Why do you sound so sad?” she asked. “Did you hear that my salon was raided by the police and all of the chemicals were confiscated?”

“Come on. You’re not even trying,” Don chuckled.

“I didn’t expect you to call tonight,” Valeria defended. “Excuse me for not having something better prepared.”

“Fine, I’ll forgive you,” Don conceded. “I was just checking in to see what’s new at Area 51.”

“Let’s see,” Valeria hummed. “Bishop’s team isn’t making any better progress than we are, I’m afraid. We’re picking up lots of chatter on the ship-to-ship feeds, but most of it isn’t of any help to us. Some of the Triceraton have been complaining about ‘having to go back,’ which seems like a bad sign.”

“From what little I’ve been able to triangulate, it does seem like they are headed in Earth's general direction,” Don considered. “They don’t seem to be in any hurry, though.”

“Maybe there’s something political behind it. Like, Zanmaron can’t get his generals to agree, or something. I’ve heard some whispers about a resistance gaining momentum,” Valeria told Don.

“Hmmm,” Don breathed. He looked down at his belly, which seemed to be getting bigger by the day. He needed to do something to feel like his babies would be born into a safe world, and he suspected that, before long, he we would be having a pretty hard time moving around. He was tired of being so passive about this, and Hun’s involvement would only mean trouble.

“Valeria, I think that I might just leave the communication tracking to you guys at the base. I think that it’s time for me to focus all of my energy on setting up a defense system. Regardless of the Triceratons’ current intentions, it would be a useful thing for earth to have anyway. Heck, I can even set it up to vaporize any threatening asteroids.”

“A part of me wants to tease you about how impossible a task that seems,” Valeria replied. “But, at this point, I’m beginning to believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Don chucked. “Maybe not anything, but I’ll never know if I don’t try, right?”

In truth, Donatello was fairly confident that he could do it. He’d been drawing up plans in his mind for a while now, and had even begun fiddling around with some prototypes. He just wasn’t so sure that he could finish the job before the babies arrived. Fortunately, he only had to worry about designing and programming the system. Bishop’s staff at Area 51 would be the ones to build it. 

oOo

Leonardo opened the pantry and saw that it was practically bare. “Raphael!” he yelled. “Weren’t you supposed to go shopping?”

“I went two days ago,” Raphael answered from the other room. “If you need something put it on the list.”

Leonardo rubbed his eyes. “We need… everything.”

“Well, can you talk to Donatello? because I already tried,” Raphael complained. “Maybe he’ll listen to his fearless leader.”

“Fearless leader, yeah right,” Leonardo mumbled to himself. He wrote down what he could think of, then went to find Donatello.

Leonardo looked all over for Donatello, and finally found him in the back area of the garage. This was a special place that the family genius reserved for his works in progress. He generally liked his new inventions to be a surprise, but the door was open, so Leo let himself in. 

To Leo’s utter horror, Donatello was balanced atop a steel beam, about 15 feet above the ground. Leonardo almost didn’t recognize him at first. He was wearing a navy blue mechanic’s suit and had a tool belt slung across his hips. Currently, he was welding some components together at the top of his latest creation, and had his face shield pulled down. Leonardo had absolutely no idea what this huge machine could be. One thing he did know was that he didn’t like seeing his pregnant brother working at heights with a blow torch, and no one watching his back for safety. 

Leo wanted to yell at Donatello to get down, but he was afraid of startling him. Instead, he watched quietly and waited for Don to notice him. Between the face shield, the elbow-length welding gloves, and the suit, almost all of Don’s features were obscured. The most recognizable parts of him were his bare, olive-green feet and, ironically, the pregnant belly that he usually tried so hard to hide. From Leo’s vantage point below, it looked to be getting pretty big. Maybe it was just an optical illusion caused by the baggy suit and the tool belt hanging low on Don’s hips. Leo’s low viewing angle also might have had something to do with it. 

Leonardo watched as Donatello continued his work. He had to admit, Don was as graceful and sure-footed as ever, despite his rapidly changing body. He was hopping from beam to beam and lifting heavy parts with ease. Maybe there was something to be said for his grueling work-out sessions. As Don continued his highwire act, Leo realized that he had concocted a fall-suppression system after all. There was a harness of sorts around Don’s upper arms, which was connected to the rafters with a rope.

Eventually, Donatello sat down on the steel beam and let his legs dangle below him. He lifted his visor and removed both gloves, then clutched his belly with a thoughtful expression. Feeling awkward, Leonardo cleared his throat. 

Don’s head snapped around, and he lowered his hands to rest on the beam. “Oh, hey, Leo. How long have you been there?”

“A little while,” Leonardo answered. “What are you working on?”

Donatello rapped on the side of his creation with his knuckles. “This? This is the scale model of my EDS.”

“What’s an EDS?” Leonardo wondered. 

“Earth Defense System,” Don explained. “It’s just a working name, kind of a play on EPF.”

Leonardo smirked. “When you said you were building a scale model, I expected something smaller.”

Don cracked a crooked grin. “Scale is a relative term, Leo. This guy is a 1:10 scale model. The build team over at EPF is working on a 1:2 working scale model.”

“So, this thing’s not going to blow up the Lair or anything.” Leo hesitated. “Is it?” 

Donatello chuckled. “No. It’s not a working model. Bishop would never allow me to purchase all the fancy parts that the EPF version has. This is just something for me to play around with, decide where the internal components will go, how the mechanics will work, stuff like that.”

“So how do you know that it will work?” Leonardo asked. 

“Calculations, modeling, computer simulations, EPF pilot tests.” Don paused, then pet the side of the machine, fondly. “It’ll work.”

Leonardo smiled. He really had to admire Don’s ingenuity and calm disposition. You would think that he was talking about something as commonplace as a toaster, rather than a sophisticated interplanetary war machine. “I’m sure it will,” Leonardo commented.

“Thanks, I guess. Anyway, what brings you by?” Donatello asked. 

“Just wondering if you were going on patrol with us tonight,” Leonardo replied. Seeing how pregnant Don was looking these days made Leo feel too guilty to bring up the depleted kitchen.

Donatello considered it. “I don’t know. I’m kind of on a roll here. My time is probably better spent in the workshop. Call me if you run into trouble, though.”

Leonardo promised to do just that. Donatello worked for a few more hours. He made dinner with the few items that were left in the pantry, then ate it alone. He took a run through the sewers and wrote some code for EDS. After his brothers safely returned home, he decided to call it a night. His back was aching, and he was feeling lonely and stressed out. 

Hours later, Don still hadn’t succumbed to his exhaustion, and now he was fighting a headache. He snuck into the bathroom to fetch a warm washcloth for his head. Afterwards, he settled back down into bed. He rested on his back, with one heavily-muscled forearm over his eyes, and a calloused hand on his swollen belly. 

As he lay there, he became aware of something that he had first noticed earlier that day while working on the EDS. It was a fluttering, like butterflies in his stomach. Leonardo had interrupted him before, and then he had gotten busy and forgotten about this new sensation. But now, he could really concentrate on it. He took a deep breath and placed both hands on his middle. He couldn’t feel anything through his plastron, but inside, in his very core, he felt the quickening.

Donatello gasped, then laughed out loud. He knew the babies were moving. He had seen it on the ultrasound. But now he could feel it. He could feel them, more than just their weight, or their effects on his own body. He could feel them. “How did you know,” he whispered to them, “how badly I needed this tonight?”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the first part of this chapter doesn’t flow with the second. I just couldn’t bear to cut it. Plus, the part about Donatello’s job comes up later.

Donatello walked down the hall, fiddling with a multi-tool that he needed for one of his projects. He wasn’t eavesdropping, but he happened to hear his name as he passed the kitchen, and he automatically paused, thinking someone had called him. It was immediately apparent that they weren’t talking to him, but rather, they were talking about him. 

“Better eat it fast before Don gets to it,” Michelangelo was saying. 

“No kidding. It’s not like we can afford to buy more. You’d think, given how big he’s gotten, that he’d want to cut back on the food intake a little. Dude’s got to be uncomfortable,” Raphael replied. 

“You should’ve been next to him at practice yesterday. He was huffing and puffing like we were running a marathon, and that was just during warmup,” Michelangelo groused

“Just count your lucky stars that you weren’t paired up with him for training. I mean, I don’t want to hurt the guy, but he’s been way off balance. I’m gonna hurt myself while trying to avoid hurting him,” Raphael complained. 

Donatello frowned and walked into the kitchen, figuring that he might as well confront the situation rather than letting it fester. Raphael and Michelangelo were huddled around a package of cookies, and were immediately shocked into silence. 

“I’ll pick up some tech support hours to pay for the extra food I’m eating,” Don started, unceremoniously. “And, sorry about the huffing and puffing. I’m not that out of shape yet. It’s just that the babies have their own oxygen demand, and my lungs are getting cramped for space. My respiratory rate increases more than usual during exercise these days, but it doesn’t mean that I’m about to pass out or keel over.”

Raphael and Michelangelo looked appropriately chagrined. 

“Hey, we were just blowing off some steam,” Raphael finally said. “Sorry that you overheard that.”

“Oh, I get it, and yes, I am off-balance and uncomfortable.” Don placed a hand on his rounded midsection. “Our plastrons weren’t meant to stretch like this, and it kind of feels like when someone mercilessly bends your arm backwards, then refuses to let go. It hurts, but it’s either suffer discomfort or endanger the babies, so the choice is easy.”

“You don’t need to pick up more tech support hours to pay for food,” Michelangelo said, guiltily. “Money is just fine.”

“No. I’m spending a disproportionate amount, and there will be lots of stuff to buy for the babies, when they come,” Don replied. “I’m not going to dig their bedding out of some dumpster. It needs to be purchased new from a store. Diapers and clothes, too. Oh, and bottles and food...and mattresses.” The list was intimidatingly long, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

“You’re busy enough as it is. If anybody should pick up extra hours, it’s the rest of us,” Michelangelo argued. 

All of the turtles did odd jobs for cash. Leonardo purchased and restored old weapons, then resold them in April’s shop. Raphael helped Casey out at his automotive business when it got busy. Donatello did freelance over-the-phone tech support, and Michelangelo performed at children’s birthday parties as “Cowabunga Carl.” None of the jobs paid much, and the hours were sporadic, but the turtle’s didn’t need much money. Anything that they made went into their joint checking account. The only expense they consistently had was food. 

“Isn’t Bishop paying you?” Raphael asked. 

“He was, back when I was at Area 51, but all of the money was going into a special account that he set up himself. It was tied into the base’s debit card system, rather than an actual bank. Besides, I’m sure he’s closed the account out of spite by now, knowing him.”

“You should be taking it easy,” Mikey reiterated. “If you think we need money, I’ll try to do more gigs. I’m real sorry if we were kind of making fun of you.”

The frown never left Don’s face, but he insisted that it was okay, then left the room and continued with his work. 

oOo

Leonardo had had enough of Hun. Don had turned surveillance of the mysterious apartment completely over to Leo, so that he could focus on the Earth Defense System. Since Hun kept finding and destroying cameras, Leonardo had resorted to old-fashioned stake outs. He still didn’t know if Triceraton were in that apartment, or what the signals going to Triceraton space meant. 

Hun seemed to be taunting him. The giant man had sent Purple Dragons out to cause trouble and keep the turtles distracted. They’d been wreaking enough havoc that even Don was taking time away from his invention to help with patrols.

Hun had also purchased a Triceraton costume, and left it hanging near a window. When Leonardo had first seen it, he thought for sure that it was a real Triceraton. He’d snuck in closer only to find that it was a costume, and that he’d been duped. Every so often, Hun or one of his men would drive around the city while wearing it. Leonardo was sure that it was being done just to enrage him. Hun knew that the turtles were aware of his connection to the aliens, and was openly teasing them.

Leonardo and his brothers had been holding back for the sake of protecting Don, but enough was enough. Leo was going to raid that apartment tonight, and get to the bottom of all this.

“What’s going on in there isn’t really all that important,” Don argued. “The EDS will keep us safe. Even if Hun is up to something, I’m going to make sure that the Triceraton can’t ever reach Earth again.”

“Of course Hun is up to something,” Raphael groaned. “It’s just a matter of what. I stand with Leo. We need to take action.”

Leonardo smiled. It was nice to have Raphael on his side for once. 

“To what end?” Don asked. “Why tip our hats? They don’t know that we’re tracking their communications.”

“We may be tracking their transmissions, but you haven’t figured out what any of the messages mean,” Leonardo pointed out.

“Ouch,” Donatello muttered, putting a hand over his heart.

“Nothing personal,” Leonardo half-apologized. “Anyway, if we are going to depend on your defense system, what does it matter if we decide to go after Hun? The system will protect us from the Triceraton anyway.”

“I just don’t want to scare him off,” Don explained. “If we raid the apartment he might pack up and leave before we can figure out how he is involved in all of this.”

“But he already knows that we know about the apartment, and he hasn’t left yet,” Leonardo reasoned. “He wrecked our cameras and he hung that costume near the window just to make fools of us.”

Raphael laughed at that. 

“What’s so funny?” Leonardo griped. “The joke was on you too.”

“Maybe, but it was pretty darn funny watching you use your best stealth moves to sneak up on that costume,” Raphael chuckled. He wriggled his fingers near his face. “Look out! It’s got coordinating boots and gloves!”

“We’re going,” Leonardo declared. He had a sharp edge to his voice that the others knew not to mess with. “We need to know for sure if Hun is harboring Triceraton.”

Donatello got to his feet with a groan that was just as much due to his aching back as the questionable decision making. 

Leonardo lifted his hand. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Don.”

“Oh, I’m going,” Don said with resignation. “I want to see what sort of equipment they’re working with. Besides, if it is a group of Triceraton in there, you guys will need all the help you can get.”

“I’ll call April and Casey,” Michelangelo offered. Since no one argued, he made the call while Don got geared up in his armored vest and the cargo pants that he had taken to wearing instead of a belt. 

As usual, Don drove the Battle Shell. He went straight to April and Casey’s apartment, and idled the van long enough to let the couple climb in. 

“So where are we going?” Casey asked. 

“Mikey didn’t tell you?” Raphael balked. “We’re going to raid the apartment that Hun is holed up in and see if there are any Triceraton in there.”

“Hun and the Triceraton?” April repeated. “That’s quite a line up.”

“We don’t think there are really any Triceraton left in New York,” Leonardo assured his human friends. “Tonight is mostly just about confirming that.” 

“So what’s the plan?” April asked. “Are we knocking on the door? Coming in through the fire escape?”

“Donatello is coming with us, so we’d like you two to stay behind in the Battle Shell, in case we need backup,” Leonardo answered. “The guys and I will take to the rooftops and then go in through the fire escape.”

Don resisted the urge to heave a sigh. He ran a hand down his face as he pulled into an alley. He parked the car and stood up to grab his gear. 

Casey’s eyes bulged out when he got a load of Don. “Whoa. Now I see where all those extra groceries we’ve been buying have been going.”

“Casey!” April hissed. 

“Oh yeah, we need to add some stuff to the shopping list - pickles, milk, frozen pizza, a half dozen cans of olives and a few boxes of crackers,” Raphael chuckled. “And, more peanut butter. Again.”

Donatello shot Raphael a dirty look, but didn’t say anything to defend himself. Heck, how could he? It was true. “Let’s just go,” Don grumped. 

Casey got behind the wheel and the turtles climbed up the nearest building. Leonardo didn’t really like Don leaping rooftops in his condition, but he kept up without any issues. Still, he was clutching his middle and breathing hard when he landed on top of Hun’s building. “You okay?” Leonardo asked. 

“Yup,” Don said sharply. “Let’s get in there and get this over with.”

“I told you that you were welcome to stay behind if you preferred,” Leonardo reminded him. 

“And I said no,” Donatello reinforced. 

Leonardo frowned. “Well, if you’re coming, do us all a favor and drop the bad attitude.”

Don frowned, but Michelangelo leapt to his defense. “Harsh, Leo. Hun’s the enemy here, not Don.”

“Let’s just get down there,” Leonardo growled as he began to descend. His brothers followed suit. 

“You’re on, Raph,” Leonardo said when he reached the window. Raphael stepped forward to jimmy it open. 

“Do we want to be this hasty?” Don asked. “I could check for heat signatures, see where they are.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Leonardo dismissed as Raphael continued to work. They’ll come running as soon as they hear us anyway. When they do, Raph and I go in, followed by Mikey. Don can come in after we’ve taken a few of them out.”

“Oh man, why am I on the B-team?” Michelangelo complained. He shrugged and smiled impishly when he saw Don’s offended look. 

Don’s face softened, and he shook his head helplessly as Raphael popped open the window. He lifted it and Leonardo immediately slunk in. No alarms were going off. That was good, anyway. Michelangelo and Donatello jockeyed for position at the window as thundering footsteps approached. Inside the apartment, Leonardo and Raphael dropped into a fighting stance.

Humans! It was only humans. Leonardo actually laughed out loud as he pushed his swords back into their sheaths. Raphael twirled his sais so that the spikes were resting against his forearm. He kicked an approaching Purple Dragon in the knee, then followed up with a roundhouse punch to the man’s jaw. 

Leonardo executed a spin kick that caught one of the other Dragons in the ribs. “Where’s Hun?” He yelled. He then ducked out of the way to avoid a fist that was flying at him. 

“He’s not home,” the Dragon shouted as he managed to kick Leonardo backwards. At the same time, Raphael grunted as he was punched in the gut. The Dragons were huge, almost as big as Hun himself. Another three that were only slightly smaller rushed in to join the fray. 

Michelangelo cringed. “Uh oh.”

“Should you be getting in there?” Donatello urged. 

“I guess,” Michelangelo groaned. 

“Maybe I should go too,” Don considered. “I don’t like the looks of this.”

“Not sure Leo would want you in there just yet,” Mikey said as he climbed into the room. He set his nunchucks spinning and ran towards a Dragon that was attempting to grab Leonardo by the shell. 

“Careful of the equipment!” Donatello hollered. 

“Call Hun, NOW!” one of the Dragons shouted. 

Raphael had been knocked down, but he bounced right back up. His quick recovery caught his opponent off guard, and Raph managed to unleash a fierce uppercut against the bottom of his enemy’s jaw as he regained his feet. The Dragon fell down. Dust puffed out of the dingy carpet. Unsurprisingly, cleaning didn’t appear to be a priority for these guys. 

Don ran in and began hog-tying the fallen Dragon in ropes. “What are you doing here?” Leonardo yelled as he backflipped away from a knife that had been thrust at his chest.

“Me?” Don checked. “Just cleaning up.” He finished his final knot. “You’re outnumbered. We don’t need any of the fallen ones getting back up.”

“Here’s another one for you,” Mikey celebrated. He cracked one of the newcomers in the shoulder with one of his nunchucks. Don thrust out his bo out so that the Dragon tripped over it as he stumbled backwards. As soon as the Dragon hit the ground, Raphael sprung up and landed on the man’s chest. The Dragon thrashed as Don tied him up as well. 

Leonardo was fighting two men at once while all of this was happening. He had the battle under control, but it was hard to simultaneously fight two huge men and keep an eye on Don. Leonardo inadvertently sent one Purple Dragon stumbling in his pregnant brother’s direction. He gasped as Raphael flung himself between Don and the enemy. 

Fortunately, Raphael was able to keep Don from being attacked, but it was clear to the Dragons that the turtles were trying to protect a vulnerable member of their team. One of the Dragons who had been standing in the bedroom doorway closed in on Don. 

“Don’t engage,” one of the other Dragons yelled to his comrade, huffing as he fought off a flurry of attacks from Michelangelo. “Hang back and protect the equipment like Hun told us to!” 

Donatello finished with the ropes and stood up, bo staff in hand. If that Dragon was protecting the equipment, it meant that Don would have to go through him regardless. He ground his jaw and considered the situation as the battle swirled around him. 

Don sprinted a few steps and launched himself with his bo. Rather than going straight towards his selected opponent, as would have been expected, Don landed a few feet to his right. He immediately dropped to his knees and let the bo slide through his fingers. Once his hands were at its base, Don swung his staff around, landing a hit on the Dragon’s ribs. 

Angered, the man grabbed for Don’s bo. Don was too fast, and snatched it back, setting it spinning close to his body. The Dragon took a good swing at Don, but the turtle managed to block it. The Dragon quickly followed with another punch. This one glanced off of Don’s shoulder. It was no big deal, the type of hit each turtle had taken a thousand times without notice. 

“Donnie!” Michelangelo shrieked. 

“I’m fine!” Don hollered. 

Nevertheless, Raphael came running and cracked Don’s attacker in the jaw with the butt of his sai. At the same time, Leonardo brought his own opponent down. Michelangelo’s opponent saw that he was the last man standing and hollered an expletive. Rather than heading for the door, he took flight towards the rear bedroom. 

“He’s going for the equipment!” Leonardo yelled. 

Michelangelo attempted to trip the Dragon, but he leapt over Mikey’s foot and practically ran over Raphael. Don attempted to sprint to the bedroom, but Leonardo jumped in front of him. “Raph and Mikey can get the equipment!”

The two nodded and ran off. Still holding Don back, Leonardo pulled out his shell cell. “Casey, April - keep a close eye on the outside of the building. We may have a Dragon or two headed your way.”

Leonardo hung up before they could answer, then ran to the bedroom himself. Don hesitated for a moment before following. The rear bedroom was small. There was a device appearing similar to a ham radio set up in an opened closet, but the battle was raging in front of it. Don didn’t dare get closer. Still, it was four turtles against one Purple Dragon. The fight should be finishing up quickly. 

Don saw an opening and ran to the closet. He scanned as fast as he could. The transmitter was too big to move, so he would need to take it apart and select a few key components to take back. He was certain that reinforcements were on the way and that Hun would be moving his equipment to a more secure location. The genius turtle grabbed a screwdriver and wrench from his duffel, deciding to start with the antenna. 

One of the Dragons who hadn’t been tied up came running into the bedroom. Leonardo stopped him from getting to Don, but it seemed as though the Dragons had recovered from the sneak attack and were now fighting as though their lives depended on it. Michelangelo had a long cut on his thigh, and Raphael was favoring one arm. 

“Work faster, Don!” Leonardo yelled. 

Don ducked below a knife that had been thrown his way. He loosened the last screw and yanked the antenna out triumphantly. He gave a celebratory whoop and dropped it into his bag. 

“You got it?” Leonardo asked as he dodged a fist. 

“Not even close,” Don shot back as he looked into the hole that was created by the extracted antenna. “The internal components in this thing are massive!”

“Grab a few and let’s go!” Raphael cried. “Hun could be here at any minute!”

Don licked his lips. Part of him didn’t want to take anything, for fear that the Triceraton would speed up their efforts now that they knew their cover on earth was blown. A bigger part of him knew that it was too late for second guesses. If they could speak to the Triceraton, Hun’s team would surely let their alien comrades know what had happened here anyway. A huge human body crashed into the closet. Don yelped and tossed a shuriken. It buried itself in the Dragon’s shin, then Mikey appeared and dragged the man back out by his shoulders. 

Don sensed that the battle was going south. He reached into the transmitter and yanked out what he could. It would have to do. “Let’s go,” he yelled, dropping the new pieces into his bag.

The turtles made a break for the fire escape, and scurried down it. “Where are April and Casey?” Raphael shouted. 

Leonardo scanned the area. He saw the Battle Shell headed their way. “There!”

The turtles ran for the van, Don clinging to his brown duffel. Suddenly, the shoulder strap was violently pulled back. Don suppressed a cry as a lance of pain shot through his back and shoulder. 

“Hun!” Leonardo yelled. He stopped running and immediately backflipped. The instant change in direction caught Hun off guard, and Leonardo managed to land on his shoulders. 

“Get to the van, Don,” Leonardo commanded. He pinched Hun’s shoulder right on a nerve, making the giant’s arm go numb. Hun involuntarily released his grip on the bag. Don clutched it harder and stepped back. 

Leo was now riding Hun’s shoulders while the huge brute bucked around like a bull attempting to throw a cowboy. Don hesitated, not wanting to leave his brothers in this situation. “I said go!” Leonardo yelled. 

Deciding not to risk his leader’s ire, Don did as commanded. Leonardo and Raphael took down Hun. Giddy with victory, everyone piled into the van. Don looked up just long enough to see that everyone was okay, then began going through his bag to take stock of his new treasure. 

“Nice mission guys,” Leonardo complimented. Don was so involved in his work that he hardly heard. While the others were celebrating that there were no Triceraton on earth after all, Don was already distracted thinking about what he would do with his new toys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 100 kudos! Thank you so much!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up immediately where the last one left off.

The gang stopped for celebratory Chinese food and took it back to the Lair. Donatello ate with one hand while working with the other. He was building an interface so that he could hook his laptop up to the antenna and transmitter components. Normally, he didn’t eat and work at the same time, but he was too hungry not to eat, and too intrigued and excited not to work. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying attention to the quantity of food he was consuming. 

“Where are the egg rolls hiding?” Mikey asked as he looked under discarded bags. 

“I believe they all made their way into Donatello,” Raphael chuckled. 

Don looked up in surprise. “Oh, did I eat them all?”

Raphael smiled and nodded, forgivingly. 

Donatello apologized. “Sorry, they were easy to grab with one hand. I guess I wasn’t keeping track.”

“It’s okay,” Mikey dismissed. “And given the pile of sticks over there, and the fact that beef teriyaki is also a one-handed food, I’m guessing that I also have the answer to what was going to be my next question.”

“Uh, sorry again,” Don said, sheepishly. 

“Crab rangoon?” Mikey checked. 

“I do remember tasting cream cheese,” Don admitted. He gestured to an empty box, wishing that he could melt into the floor. 

Mikey picked up another empty container. “All the chicken fingers?”

“I don’t think that I ate all of them,” Don weakly defended, beginning to turn red in the face. 

“It’s true, I got one,” Raphael piped up. “One. But, come share this egg foo yung.”

“There’s lo mein and rice left too,” Leonardo encouraged, “and some sweet and sour pork.”

“Okay,” Mikey grumbled. “Next time we need to order more finger foods. They’re the best part.”

“We did order more finger food,” Raphael reminded him. 

Donatello felt like the worst brother in the world. It wasn’t often that the guys let themselves indulge like this anymore, and he had unknowingly squandered most of it. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry. If you want to place another order, I’ll put on a disguise and go get it,” he offered. “Get whatever you want, please. I promise that I won’t touch it this time.”

“That’s okay,” Michelangelo said with a sigh. “I know the babies had to eat too, and there’s still plenty left here, really. Let’s just all relax and watch the movie.”

“You know, I’m pretty tired,” Donatello admitted. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

Leonardo looked over his shoulder. “You sure? It’s sci-fi. Right up your alley.”

“Yeah,” Don said. “I’m going to catch some zzz’s while the computer runs it’s analysis on those components. I want to come at this fresh in the morning.”

Raphael shrugged. “If you say so. Good night Don.”

“Night Donnie,” the others echoed. 

To Donatello, they didn’t sound particularly upset to see him go. Over the course of the next few hours, raucous laughter filtered into his bedroom. Don really had wanted to sleep. He had a headache and his back hurt. More troublesome, he’d had this cramping pain in his belly for the past several days, and it was only getting worse with time. He had hoped that lying down would help, but it didn’t seem to have much effect. 

Almost two hours after he had disappeared into his room, Donatello cracked his door open without anyone taking notice. When there was a break in the laughter, he called out to April. He spoke so quietly that she almost missed it. “April, could you please help me out with something?” he hissed. 

April turned and saw Don’s head sticking out of the bedroom door. “Sure, Don,” she said, as she got up and crossed the room. “I thought you went to sleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he confessed. He let her in and closed the door behind her. 

“I’m sorry. Were we being too loud out there?”

“It wasn’t that.” Don shrugged. “Well, not entirely that, anyway.”

April looked around Don’s room, wondering what he needed help with. It was full of half-finished projects, as always, but none of them looked like he’d been actively working on them just now. “So what’s up?” she asked. 

Don gingerly sat himself down on the bed. “See, the thing is, I’ve been experiencing a significant amount of abdominal pain,” Don said, clinically. 

The forced lack of emotion in his voice was almost as alarming as what he had said. “Oh no! Are you okay?” April fretted. 

Don looked at the floor. “I’m fine. It just hurts.”

April put her hand on her friend’s tense shoulder. “Well, did you want me to check you out? Are you worried about early labor?”

Don faltered. “Um, I don’t know. I want you to be unbiased, and not influenced by my opinion.”

April understood his concern. Donatello didn’t have a doctor. If anything, he was everyone else’s doctor. But, real doctors don’t treat themselves. April was probably the best resource that Don had, now that Leatherhead and Professor Hunnicut were gone and Splinter had passed away.

“Just lie down and try to relax,” April instructed. “I’m going to palpate your abdomen, if that’s okay.”

Don nodded and laid back, closing his eyes after settling into the pillows. April found it funny to see him like this, with his belly on full display. He still hunched over and hid it whenever possible, even around her. This made it difficult to judge its size, but to April, it seemed much bigger than it had been a couple of weeks ago. It had gone from relatively flat to fairly good-sized with surprising speed. April kept this in mind as she conducted her examination.

She hesitated before beginning to roll Don’s shirt up. ”I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but I have to ask - you don't think that this could be from overeating?”

Don squinted at her. ”My stomach is up here,” he told her, lightly rubbing the top of his distended belly. ”The pain that I'm feeling is mostly concentrated in my lower abdomen. Besides, it's been gradually increasing over the past few days. There’s no correlation to when and how much I eat.”

”I’m sorry,” April repeated. ”I know that you’re self-conscious about your appetite, and I didn’t mean to imply that you’re eating too much. I just didn't want to hurt you by mistake.”

Don settled back down. ”It’s okay,” he muttered. 

Using both hands, she gradually worked her way over his whole belly, applying firm but gentle pressure. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for, she just hoped to figure it out when the time came. “You said that it hurts mostly on bottom? Is it focused on the center or the sides?” she asked after a while.

“All over,” Don answered. The quiet sound of his voice was nearly drowned out by boisterous laughter from the living room. “It really hurts, April,” Don said, attempting to draw her attention back after she glanced towards the door. 

“I know it does,” April soothed. Don seemed worried that she suspected him of trying to manipulate her into staying with him. Of course, she knew he would never do that. If anything, Don always attempted to deflect attention away from himself, particularly where his health was concerned. “Is it just your belly, or does your back hurt too?” April asked, to reaffirm her commitment. 

“My back always hurts,” Don complained. “My plastron often does too, since it started popping out more. But, that’s more of an achiness in the plating. What I’m feeling now is deeper and more intense.”

“Does this more intense pain move from your belly to your back?” April clarified. 

Don shook his head. “No.”

“Does it move at all?” April wondered. 

“No,” Don said again. “It’s generalized.”

April looked at him. “But worse on bottom?”

“Yeah,” Don breathed. 

April moved her hands to his mid-lower plastron, right at the base of where his belly was now popping out. “Down here?” Earlier, she had felt what might have been a muscle spasm in that area, but Don was so tense that it was hard to tell. 

Don simply nodded, and covered his eyes with one muscular arm. 

“Did you try running an ultrasound?” April asked. 

“Yes. There was nothing suspicious, at least as far as I could see,” he mumbled, tiredly. “We can do another one if you want.”

April pursed her lips. “Scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a five or six,” Don assessed.

Apri nodded. That wasn’t too bad, assuming that Don wasn’t downplaying things. “And, it’s not coming and going?”

Beneath his arm, Don shook his head ‘no.’

April pressed a bit more firmly. “Is it worse when I do this?”

“A little,” Don squeaked. Again, laughter came from the other room, and Don tensed. 

“Okay. Please try to relax,” April instructed. His plastron was still rigid enough that it was tough to feel anything through it. When he tensed like that, it was practically impossible. April began lightly running her fingers along the affected area. “You seem to have gotten a lot bigger since the last time I saw you.”

“I know,” Don whimpered. 

“But you’re still training and patrolling and working in the garage and in the lab?” April verified. 

“I’m accommodating my condition whenever possible,” Don said, defensively. 

April leaned back. “Maybe so, but your babies are growing fast now, and you right along with them. You’re asking too much of your body, Don.”

Don finally lifted his arm so that she could look him in the eyes. “But, you don’t think I’m hurting the babies, do you? It’s not premature labor or anything?”

“I don’t see any evidence of that.” April took Don’s hands and guided them to the area she had been focusing on. He gasped in surprise and opened his brown eyes wider. He looked so vulnerable. April feared that he was close to tears, and kept her own hands over his. “Do you feel that? I think your lower abdominal muscles are in spasm. They must be strained from being displaced and carrying all this extra weight. You’ve got to give them a break and learn to rest more.”

Donatello grimaced and rubbed the sore area. His thick, calloused fingers weren’t as sensitive as April’s, but now that she pointed it out, he could feel the muscles spasming. “What if I can’t find time to rest?” he whimpered. 

April frowned at that. “You’ll continue to hurt. It’ll probably get worse.”

“Just me, though? Not the babies?”

“Just you. You matter too, though, Donnie,” April reminded him. “You seem to forget that.”

“Okay,” Don sniffed, before putting on a brave face. “Well, I thought it was just round ligament pain, so I guess we agree that it’s nothing dire.”

April made it a point to keep her hands over his, so that he couldn’t dismiss her. There were times that it occurred to her that he was very much alone in this. Don had always been independent, but that didn’t make him immune to loneliness, and what she saw right now was a scared, lonely kid. He wasn’t getting the support he needed at home, and he was embarrassed, but he was doing his best to reach out to her. Donatello never asked for much, but she could tell that he needed her now. 

The sound of laughter from outside Don’s room echoed through the air once more. 

“I’m fine here, if you want to go back to the others. Sounds like they’re having fun,” Don said, with an unmistakable air of melancholy. 

“You could go back too, you know. It was you who left the party,” April correctly pointed out. 

“I’m fine here,” Don repeated. He was pretty sure that it had only become a party after he had left. 

“Then, I’m fine here too,” April stated firmly, “unless you want to be alone, that is.”

“No. I just know I’m not any fun to be around right now,” Don moped. “They shouldn’t be burdened with me, and you shouldn’t feel obligated to stay and babysit me.”

“Don, you’re my best friend!” April exclaimed. “You’re not a burden or an obligation. I enjoy being around you! You do know that, right?”

“I didn’t know that I was your best friend. I mean, obviously, you’re mine, but I didn’t know that I was yours.” Don pulled a hand loose to wipe his suddenly teary eyes. 

“You are, kiddo,” April said, lovingly. Poor Don was really struggling. He always had stunk at taking care of himself. He was the type of guy who put everyone and everything else first, and just pushed his own needs aside. She’d seen it time and time again with him. Heck, she could probably ask him to fix her computer while he was in the throes of labor, and he wouldn’t turn her down or even bat an eye. He couldn’t afford to ignore his own needs at a time like this, but he wasn’t going to change on his own. April decided right then and there that she had to be more proactive about looking out for him. 

“You know, Casey and Raphael get together every Friday. Maybe we could make that our time. I really enjoyed hanging out with you and Angel, and talking babies. We should do that again.”

“Maybe,” Don said quietly. “I don’t have a lot of free time, though.”

“Well, that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” April observed. “You need to prioritize rest and relaxation. Anyway, if time is an issue, I can come to you. Maybe I can even help out with some of your projects.”

“That would be nice,” Don admitted. He'd been feeling so overwhelmed lately. 

April stuck around until Donatello finally fell asleep, and even watched over him for a little while after. She hoped that he would be feeling better in the morning.


	25. Chapter 25

Donatello spent the next few days analyzing what he had managed to steal from Hun’s operation. Leonardo was pleased that Don was keeping busy in the lab, rather than insisting on joining his brothers on more patrols. 

Conversely, it would have been rather nice to have Don out there with them. Hun was spitting mad about his equipment being stolen. The Purple Dragons were causing trouble all over the city in the hopes of luring the turtles. The guys had their hands full, but Leonardo did his best to hide this from Don. 

Therefore, Donatello was surprised when Raphael came to him with a black eye and a six-inch long gash on his arm. “Don, do you mind stitching me up?” Raphael greeted. 

Don looked up from his work, then leaped out of his chair, ignoring the shot of pain in his back and abdominal muscles as he sprinted over to where Raphael was standing in the laboratory doorway. “Sheesh!” Don hissed. “What happened to you?” 

“Hun happened to me,” Raphael explained. “Got kinda mad when I broke his friend’s wrist.”

Don gently turned Raphael’s arm over, examining it very closely. “Is this a knife wound?”

“Yup. Nice and clean, though, not rusty or anything,” Raphael clarified. 

“We should clean and disinfect the wound anyway,” Don decided. “Have a seat.”

Raphael sat down on the small cot that Donatello kept in his lab. Don gave him an ice pack for his eye, then went to gather his suturing equipment. He brought it all over and set it down on a side table. “This is going to sting,” Don warned, just before applying some hydrogen peroxide. He let it sit for a few minutes, then meticulously cleansed Raphael’s arm with soap and water. 

When he was satisfied, Donatello went to wash his own hands, stretching his back with a wince while he did so. Raphael watched with his good eye, noting how stiff Don’s movements were. 

Don took a seat beside Raph and began stitching. Raphael would never admit it, but he always chose Donatello to tend to him for a good reason. Dr. Don simply had the best bedside manner, as well as the gentlest hands. Heck, he probably would have made a great Doctor for real, had he been born a human. But then, they weren’t human, so they had to look out for their own. 

“Your back okay, bro?” Raphael asked after a while. 

Don’s eyes briefly darted to Raph’s own, before returning to the wound that he was working on. “It’s just sore. Too much sitting.”

“Too much sitting is the least of your problems,” Raphael opined. “If anything you’re doing too much of everything else.”

“Says the guy who asked me to drop what I was doing and stitch him up,” Don teased. 

“At least you aren’t hunched over that computer at the moment,” Raphael scolded. “That can’t be good for your back.”

Don smiled and shook his head as he continued to stitch. “Don’t injure yourself up on my account. There are far better ways to get me to take a break.”

“Now you tell me,” Raphael chuckled. 

Don spent the next ten minutes carefully closing Raphael’s wound and wrapping it with gauze. He got up and removed the ice pack from Raph’s eye. When he turned to put everything away, he managed to knock over the hydrogen peroxide with his belly. It crashed to the floor, and the cap broke off. 

“Nuts!” Don exclaimed. 

Raphael only laughed. “You’ve got to learn to watch out with that thing. It’s getting big enough to do some serious damage around here.”

“Haha,” Don said dryly. He stepped over the spilled liquid to grab a roll of paper towels. 

“I wasn’t kidding,” Raphael reinforced. “You’re lucky that wasn’t glass.”

Donatello puffed out a breath of air as he knelt down on the floor. “How about you take a break from making fun of me and help me clean this up?”

oOo

Leonardo and Donatello agreed that Raphael shouldn’t be bending his arm for a few days, and that he should stay below ground until his eye was better. With Raph out of commission, Don stepped in to help out with patrols. It meant putting aside his research, but it was better than allowing the Purple Dragons to tear apart the city. Besides, he felt like he needed the exercise. The babies were already beginning to feel heavy, and sitting in front of the computer all day was leaving him so achy and stiff. He wanted fresh air and an excuse to exercise. 

Leonardo knew better than to say anything, but he hated having Don out and about in his condition, especially after what had happened to Raphael. 

Leonardo peered at Don, as the resident genius drove the Battle Shell to April’s apartment. There was precious little space between Don’s protruding belly and the steering wheel. “We should really push that seat back,” Leonardo thought out loud. 

Don looked at him pointedly and did just that. “Happy now?” he snapped. 

Leonardo didn’t respond. Pregnant Donatello had a tendency to get cranky. Leo found it best not to engage. He knew that Don was under a great deal of mental and physical stress, so he was easily forgiven.

Don pulled over, and April and Casey climbed into the van. After they exchanged greetings, Don headed out in search of trouble. “The police scanner has been picking up a lot of activity near the Museum of Natural History,” Leonardo said. “Maybe start there.”

“Will do,” Don agreed as he slipped the van back into drive. 

“So, how’s it going with the antenna?” April asked. 

“So-so. It’s definitely some interesting tech. I’m hoping to be able to integrate some of what I’m learning into the EDS,” Don answered. 

“Why only so-so, then?” April wondered. 

“I’m just a little worried that Hun’s team will be able to repair their equipment quickly. What I’ve found is cool and all, but I think that it would be relatively easy to recreate with materials that are readily available in the City,” Don explained. 

“Aren’t the odds pretty good that they have spare parts anyway?” April asked. 

“I suppose,” Don answered. “I would imagine that the Triceraton planned for this contingency.”

“Are you are still monitoring for new communications?” April checked. 

“You bet I am,” Don replied. He stifled a yawn as he turned a corner and Central Park came into view. “What do you say, Leo? Shall I just drive around for a while?”

“It’s as good an idea as any,” Leonardo answered. “This whole area has been crawling with Dragons for days now. They’re bound to show up again tonight.”

“How’s Raph?” Casey asked. 

“He’s fine,” Leonardo answered. “He’s just having a hard time bending his arm because of all the stitches.”

“And you’re sure you trust him alone in the Lair?” April joked. 

“Oh, how much damage can he do?” Michelangelo replied. “He’s probably enjoying having the TV to himself.”

“Don, can you pull into that alley?” Leonardo requested. “I think that I recognize those guys.”

Don did as commanded, and everyone climbed out of the Battle Shell. Leo snuck up to the corner of the building and peeked around it. “Those are definitely Purple Dragons,” Leonardo confirmed. “I recognize the wallet chains and 1980’s haircuts.”

“What do you want to do?” April asked. 

“Split up,” Leonardo decided. “Don and I stay here, April, Casey, and Michelangelo head up the street. That way we can head them off if they try to run.”

Everyone climbed out of the Battle Shell and reported to their assigned stations. “You can hang back by the van if you want to, Don,” Leonardo suggested after the others left. 

Don leaned against the side of a building. “I’m fine.”

“I know,” Leo quickly replied. “I was just saying.”

It didn’t take long for the pair of Purple Dragons to nab an old lady’s purse. Leo and Don took off running. “Headed your way, Mikey,” Leonardo called into his shell cell. 

Don was right on Leo’s heels. He was keeping up just fine, although he was huffing and puffing due to decreased lung capacity. After a couple of blocks, Leonardo managed to grab the purse. He tossed it back to Don before tackling one of the Purple Dragons. 

Don helped Leo take the Dragons down. When the others arrived, April called the police. She said that she had witnessed a theft, and turned in the purse. She then went back to the police station to file a witness report. 

The turtles spent the night dealing with a series of similar incidents. After three hours, and a half dozen fights, Donatello was more than ready to go home. He was hungry and exhausted. His back and feet were killing him. That’s when Hun finally made his appearance. 

“You freaks are turning into quite a nuisance,” the giant growled as he stepped out of the dive bar that he’d been hanging out at. 

Michelangelo yawned. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“I suppose I could walk away,” Hun offered. “If you return what you stole from me.”

Mikey was momentarily confused. “What did we steal? Ohhhh wait - do you mean that antenna thingy?”

“Very funny,” Hun spat. “So, where are you hiding the goods?”

“In your mom’s underwear drawer,” Michelangelo teased. Leonardo shook his head, and Don groaned. 

“You can tell me now,” Hun said calmly, “or you can hide in your nasty shells while I rip this city apart. One way or another, I’m getting my stuff back.”

“We’re not hiding,” Leonardo shot back. “We’re right here.”

Hun summoned five of his friends, who came out of the bar wielding pool cues and glass beer bottles. Leonardo loosened his shoulder muscles, and Donatello whipped out his bo staff. Michelangelo set his nunchucks spinning, and Casey selected a golf club. 

The opposing groups threw themselves at one another, making sure that the melee worked its way to the back alley where it was more likely to escape notice. 

“No one steals from me!” Hun roared as he landed a lucky hit and smashed Michelangelo into a fire escape. 

“Mikey!” Leonardo yelled. He couldn’t break free from the two men that he was fighting. Don saw this, and managed to snap his bo staff against his own opponent’s chest. Before the Dragon could recover, Don pole-vaulted away and landed near Mikey. 

“It’s me you want!” Donatello shouted. “I took your equipment.”

Leonardo hollered a warning. “Donatello, don’t!” 

Hun dropped Mikey. “I don’t care which one of you freaks has it. I only care about getting it back.”

“I’m kind of using it right now,” Donatello countered. He then darted out of the way of a mighty punch from Hun. Hun recovered in no time, forcing Don to backflip away to avoid another punch. He landed gracefully, but after hours on his feet, the weight of the babies was quickly wearing him down. His abdominal muscles strained as he made the jump, and then flared with agony as the weight of his triplets crashed into them upon his landing. Don grasped his midsection, but managed to keep himself from whimpering. 

“I knew it. You tried to eat it, didn’t you, fatty?” Hun taunted. 

Don ignored the insult and instead focused on regaining his breath. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Hun saw this and advanced faster. Don panted as he blocked each punch and kick with his bo. 

A couple of Dragons had fallen, but Leonardo and Michelangelo were busy with their own fights and weren’t in a position to help Don. Casey had been forced into the street, and was currently trying to convince a passerby not to call the police. Don sighed. He hated to become the aggressor, but he needed to end this fight now, before Hun got the better of him. 

Donatello allowed Hun to back him into a corner. Hun looked like he believed that his victory was ensured. Just when Hun was about to grab him, Don leaped high into the air, flipped over, and landed behind the giant. Before Hun had time to pivot around, Don had set his bo spinning at lightning-fast speed. He feigned as if he were going to connect with Hun’s left side. Hun had barely managed to turn around, and instinctively shifted to his right to blunt the force of Donatello’s incoming strike. At the last second, Don changed the direction of the spin. He snapped the other end of the bo into the right side of Hun’s jaw. It made a sickening cracking noise, and Hun collapsed like a bag of bricks. 

The move put a terrible strain on Don’s wrists. The strike was so powerful that his arms shook from his hands to his shoulders as the bo reverberated. Any human would have dropped the staff, but Don’s thick, strong fingers allowed him to maintain his grip. 

Hun made a gurgling noise, as he clasped his jaw and spit out a tooth. He writhed on the ground, but did not attempt to get up. Don was relieved that the worst of the fight was over, but he couldn’t believe that he had done something so violent. It was all he could do to keep himself from losing his dinner all over the pavement. 

“Oh! Did you see that?!” Mikey hooted. “Hun’s going to be taking all of his meals through a straw for a month!”

Seeing their leader go down had caused the other Purple Dragons to falter. “Retreat!” Leonardo yelled, seeing the opportunity to slip away. While Leo wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, he was a little shocked at the overt display of aggression from his normally peaceful brother. 

Donatello purchased an industrial sized can of olives and scarfed them down in the Battle Shell on the way home. He needed something to settle his stomach, as well as his nerves, or he was going to yak on the floor of the van. Sadly, it wouldn't have been the first time. 

He beat a quick path to his room as soon as the group made it home to the Lair. He was more than ready to turn in for the night, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Hun’s broken face as he collapsed. Unfortunately, it made Don physically ill, and the retching did no favors to his strained stomach muscles. As much as he needed it, there would be no early bedtime for Don tonight. 

Donatello figured that if he was going to be awake, he might as well get some work done. Between doctoring Raphael and joining the patrol, he hadn't spent much time tending to his other duties lately. 

Don was too mentally exhausted to work on anything Triceraton-related. The Battle Shell needed some repairs, but any sort of hard physical labor like that was also clearly out of the question. He decided to consult his to-do list and find something a little less challenging to work on. 

As he leafed through the multiple sheets of paper, Donatello tried to suppress the onset of a panic attack. The only thing growing faster than the babies was the list of things he needed to accomplish prior to their arrival. Every time he managed to cross something off, it seemed that three more items were added. Just as he was beginning to calm down, Raphael walked in. 

“How are you feeling, Donatello?” Raph asked. “I’m a little surprised to see you awake.”

“I’m fine,” Don fibbed. “The babies are just keeping me up again.”

Raphael frowned. Something about Don seemed off, even more so than usual. The others had told Raph about what happened on patrol, and he knew that Don didn’t handle that stuff very well. Maybe Don just needed a distraction? Raphael shuffled his feet. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something in the garage?”

The last thing Don wanted to do was go to the garage. While the threat of a panic attack had passed, it had left a major stress headache in its wake. Between that and all his other aches and pains, he now desperately wanted to just lie back down. The turtle was overwhelmed and exhausted. 

Raphael sensed his hesitation. “I thought you said you were feeling okay?”

“I am,” Donatello lied again. “It’s just, patrol is hard on me right now, you know? I just wanted to try and relax for a little while.”

Raphael wasn’t sure what to do. His genius brother didn’t have a lazy bone in his body. He worked and fought right up until the outbreak virus took him. But if Don wasn’t being lazy, that meant he was lying about not feeling well. Don had never been a liar, either. So where did that leave them? It seemed to Raphael that a distraction would do Donatello some good, so he pressed on. 

“Look, Don, I know you must be stressed out, but I’m only asking you to supervise. I’m already an expert with my bike, and regular vehicles. It’s just your specially-designed stuff that I worry about taking care of on my own. But, once I’m more comfortable with the vehicle maintenance, it will be one more thing that’s permanently off your list. I’m just trying to help you out.”

Don internalized a sigh. “You’re right. Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll meet you in the garage.” After Raphael left, Don rubbed his temples and stretched out his back. His feet were ridiculously swollen. That was new. Yet another thing to hope nobody would notice. Don groaned and hobbled off. 

He found Raphael elbow deep in the Battle Shell’s engine compartment. “So, if I want to check the weapon system, the first thing I need to do is unscrew this, right?” 

Don peeked at the component that his brother was indicating. “Yup.”

Raphael completed his task. “Do I need to pull this out, or should I leave it in place?”

Don yawned. “Uh. Either works. I’ve done it both ways.”

Raphael furrowed his brow. “Well, what do you recommend?” 

Don hesitated. “Let’s take it out and get a good look at it.” 

Raphael noticed that Don was no longer over his shoulder. He looked behind him, and saw that Don had taken a seat at his workbench and was tinkering with something. “What’s that?” Raphael asked. He was a little irritated to not have his brother’s full attention. 

“I’m making a spare shell cell,” Don explained. “The old spare is now my new one.”

“Can it wait?” Raphael requested. “I was hoping you’d watch me do this.”

“I thought you had it,” Don semi-apologized. Truthfully, he had just been making up an excuse to get off of his feet for a few minutes. He struggled back up and began approaching Raphael. “All you have to do is release the quick-connect.”

Without warning, the Battle Shell shot out a ball of compressed garbage. It smashed into one of Don’s tool chests and sent its contents flying everywhere. Raphael hit the deck, and Donatello backpedaled. 

“Not that one!” Don barked. “The one on the other side!”

“A little late to be telling me that now, don’t you think?” Raphael growled from his spot on the floor. 

“Sorry,” Don stammered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Raphael hesitated as he swallowed his anger. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Looks like my tool chest took the worst of it.” Don frowned. “What a mess.”

“Figures,” Raphael huffed. “I was afraid that something like that was going to happen. Why weren’t you watching me, Don? I told you I needed help.”

“Sorry,” Don apologized again. “I forgot that the garbage cannon was primed.”

Raphael took a calming breath. “At least no one was hurt.”

Don clapped Raph on the shoulder, then grabbed a broom and began cleaning the mess. 

Leonardo and Michelangelo came jogging in. Their jaws dropped open at the sight of the garbage and tools scattered everywhere. “What’s going on in here?” Leonardo demanded. 

“Little mishap,” Raphael explained. “We’ve got it under control.”

“What were you doing to the Battle Shell?” Leonardo huffed. 

“Me?” Raphael’s anger rose again. “I was learning to repair it like we talked about.”

“You promised you wouldn’t touch anything unless Don was supervising!” Leonardo exclaimed. “I get that you’re bored because your arm has you out of commission, but that doesn’t give you the right to mess around where you shouldn't.”

“Don was supervising!” Raphael defended. “He just wasn’t doing a very good job of it.”

“Where even is he?” Michelangelo wondered. “I thought he was in bed.”

“He was supposed to be,” Leonardo replied. 

“I’m right here,” Don spoke up from the corner. He’d previously been hidden from Leo and Mikey’s line of sight. 

“Jeez, Don,” Leo scolded. “Why the heck did you get out of bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Don replied. 

“Well, you should’ve kept trying,” Leonardo chastised. “Clearly your head is somewhere else if this happened on your watch.” Leo turned to Raph. “Did you aggravate your injury at all?”

Raphael was surprised that Leo’s anger was apparently targeted at Donatello instead of him for once. It took him a moment for him to answer, “No.”

“Well, I think the two of you have done enough for one night,” Leonardo announced. “Why don’t you both turn in? Mikey and I will clean this up.”

“Me! Why am I being punished?” Michelangelo complained. 

“Raph is wounded, and Don is pregnant,” Leo explained. “We can’t have them wading through festering old garbage. They could get sick, or Raph’s injury could get infected.”

“Have fun,” Raphael quipped as he left the room. He was irritated enough about this whole chain of events to know that it was best to walk away.

Don wasn’t so smart. He leaned on the broom he had been using. “May I remind you that we live in the sewers? A little old garbage is nothing.”

“I said go to bed, Donatello!” Leonardo exploded. “Will you please just do as I ask for once?!”

Donatello muttered an apology to Mikey as he handed him the broom and stalked out of the garage. He felt about two inches tall.


	26. Chapter 26

Leonardo took stock of his troops and didn’t like what he saw. Raphael was able to move his arm again but wasn’t back in fighting form. Donatello looked exhausted and undeniably pregnant, as he unhappily sipped his tea. Michelangelo was physically okay, but his face was far more solemn than usual. He’d been in a bit of a funk ever since being forced to clean up after the garbage explosion a few nights ago. Perhaps he had been in a funk even longer than that, and Leonardo just hadn’t noticed because of all his other problems. 

Leo suppressed a sigh as he took his seat around the breakfast table with his family. Michelangelo leaned back in his chair. “You know what we need is a vacation,” Michelangelo grumbled. 

Raphael laughed bitterly. “Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what we need. To be even more on top of each other.” Everyone knew that Raph was going stir crazy after being cooped up in the Lair because of his injury. He was the type of turtle that needed fresh air and freedom.

“Think about it, dude,” Michelangelo urged. “We could unplug, hang out, just get away from all these bad feelings.” 

Donatello spoke softly. “You know, I sent my latest EDS schematics to the build team out at Area 51 yesterday. Hun is out of commission for the time being. Now would be the perfect time for a vacation.”

Leonardo snapped his head up. At this point, he hardly even expected to hear from Don at all anymore. The genius was constantly working or holed up in his bedroom. “Maybe it would be good to… hit the reset button, so to speak,” Leonardo considered. 

Donatello perked up a little at the positive reinforcement. “It’s still hot enough to go swimming.” The idea of feeling weightless for a little while sounded pretty darn good to him. 

Michelangelo stood from his seat. “We could have campfires, maybe do some hiking, or take the raft out!”

“Forced family togetherness,” Raphael huffed. 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Michelangelo snapped. 

“Far be it from me to rain on this parade,” Raphael countered. “Besides, we’ll need someone to drive the second vehicle containing all of Donatello’s food. I’m not sure he can fit behind a wheel anymore and goodness knows that Michelangelo is unfit for the roads.”

Don pretended not to be offended, despite how much it hurt him. It was probably intended as a joke. 

“So, you do want to go?” Leonardo asked, cutting through Raphael’s tough-guy routine. 

Raphael responded with a “meh.”

“He’s excited, I can tell,” Michelangelo said, dryly. 

“I’ll call Casey and see if we can head up on Sunday,” Leonardo decided. “That’ll give us some time to pack.”

“You think Don will still be able to squeeze himself into the van if we wait that long?” Michelangelo joked. 

“Very funny,” Don snipped. The look on his face was enough to make Mikey feel like crap. 

“Seriously, though, are you feeling up to the drive?” Mikey asked, softly. “I know you say you’re feeling better, but you still get sick a few times a day, and the ride back from Area 51 was… not pretty.”

“I’ll manage,” Don answered, dismissively. “And given that yes - I can still fit behind the wheel, maybe I’ll take the second car. That way none of you will be forced to ride along with me.”

“Don’t be so cranky,” Raphael requested. “We’re just messing around.”

Don stubbornly maintained his grumpy demeanor. Leonardo put his arms over Don and Raph’s shoulders. “This’ll be good guys. It’ll get us talking, and we can really work on rebuilding our bond and planning for the babies.”

Raphael broke out of the hold and swatted Leo’s arm away. “You’re going to turn this into some hippy feel-good wilderness retreat, aren’t you?”

Leonardo grinned wickedly and rubbed his hands together. For the first time in a while, Don genuinely laughed. This was going to be good, to spend time together and get everything on the table. 

oOo

Packing for this trip was really strange for Don. He hadn’t realized how much secret eating he’d been doing until he began going through his room and lab and deciding what to bring. He left most of his hidden food stash behind since he wouldn’t have any privacy for pigging out, but he did bring some treats to share with his brothers. He packed his hormones and a deeper than usual first aid kit. 

What was really weird was planning out clothes. The turtles had one outfit each, and they usually didn’t bring them on trips. Given that Don was shedding and feeling very embarrassed about the size of his belly, there was no way that he was being seen in his natural state. It was easy enough to toss a bunch of tee-shirts into the suitcase, but he had no idea what sort of bottoms to wear. 

The sewers were cool, even in the summer, and the turtles only went above ground in the evening, after the sun had set. It was easy to get away with wearing long pants if he was hanging around the Lair. But, it was August, and the farm was hot, and also lacked air conditioning. Don didn’t think he’d be comfortable in heavy clothes, but the idea of wearing shorts seemed ridiculous. Furthermore, he had every intention of swimming, but had no idea what to wear. There was no bathing suit in his current repertoire. 

As hurtful as it was to his male ego, he decided to call April for fashion advice. She’d need to do the shopping anyway, since Don couldn’t show his mutated face in a store and there wasn’t enough time to order clothes online. Don certainly wasn't paying extra for expedited shipping. The turtles were practically broke at the moment. 

“Hey, Don! I hear you guys are heading upstate?” April greeted. 

Don smiled at the sound of his friend’s voice. “That’s why I’m calling, actually. I’m trying to figure out what to pack. Do you have any idea what sort of shorts men are wearing these days?”

April burst out laughing. “What?! Don’t you think that’s more a question for Casey?”

“Not sure I want Casey giving me fashion advice. He’d probably have me in a speedo, along with his signature hockey mask and muscle shirt,” Don griped. 

“Good point, but you’ve got to admit that he wears them well,” April purred. 

Don put his face in his hands. “May I remind you that just because I’m knocked up doesn’t mean that I want you to think of me as one of the girls. I’m not going to ogle Casey with you.”

April laughed. “Sorry Don.”

“Eh, that’s okay. But, back to the testosterone-laden topic of summer maternity fashion,” Don chuckled. 

April laughed too, then cleared her throat. “I don’t pay much attention to mens’ shorts, I’m afraid.”

“Other than Casey’s,” Don quipped. 

“Yes,” April affirmed. “But, what do you say Casey and I go to a department store and buy you whatever we decide is appropriate?”

“Yes!” Don cheered. “I’ll also need more elastic paneling to sew in, and please get yourself dinner on me as a thank you.”

“It’s okay, Don. I know money is tight. You don’t need to worry about paying us,” April kindly offered. 

“No, it’s okay,” Don assured. “I’m working the IT line tonight. Let me treat you.”

“Well, if the IT line doesn’t send you running from the city, nothing will,” April joked. 

oOo

Don looked at the clock. It had just hit midnight, which meant that he was halfway through the 8-4 shift that he had registered for. This time of night, the calls were inevitably about the same, rather unpleasant topic. Don hit the button to connect another call. “Midnight lonely hearts club. This is Don from New York. What’s ailing your computer tonight?”

“Lonely hearts club?” his customer repeated. 

“Just a little IT humor,” Don assured. He found that it helped to put his customers at ease early on, because the trouble that people ran into this time of night tended to be rather… personal in nature. “So, what seems to be the problem?”

“Well, I was watching some, um, adult content, and this pop-up appeared saying that someone had activated my webcam and recorded my, um...session? This is so embarrassing.” 

“No need to be embarrassed,” Don soothed. “This is something that’s been making the rounds. It’s usually nothing.”

“I hope so. Because the pop-up said that it would email the video to everyone on my contact list unless I paid in bitcoin,” the customer continued, his voice raising with panic. 

“It’s okay. I’m here to help,” Don said calmly. “Is the pop-up still there?”

“No!” the man yelled. “I couldn’t respond in time because I, you know, I was kind of in the middle of something and it took a minute to pull myself together. By then, the pop up was gone!”

“Has your computer been acting fine since then?” Don asked. He then muted the phone and pounded his chest. His heartburn was raging tonight. He was beginning to suspect that Bishop was using him to breed dragons. 

“Yes,” the man answered. “But, I haven’t really done anything.”

“Okay, well, if you’re willing to give me control of the computer, I’ll log in to see if the webcam has been active,” Don suggested. “That’ll get us to the bottom of this.”

Don was met with silence. He realized he forgot to take the phone off mute, and blamed it on pregnancy brain. “Help me out here, dragons,” he requested. He gave his belly a pat before taking the phone off of mute and repeating his request. 

The customer let Don take over his computer. Sure enough, the webcam hadn’t been active, and there was no sign of malware. “You’re in the clear,” Don assured his customer. “Please try to enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Maybe not quite so much, though,” the customer joked. 

“I don’t judge,” Don said in parting. He took a minute to stretch his back and eat a banana that he hoped would tame his heartburn. He sat back down, and reclined back in his seat. He frowned at how much his belly stuck out when he was in this position. He put a hand on it and connected another call.

This time, the caller started talking before Don could utter a witty greeting. “I was in the middle of… you know… and a pop-up appeared saying that my webcam had recorded it! If my wife finds out she’ll kill me!”

Don looked skyward with resignation. “Calm down sir. It’ll be okay.” It was going to be a long night. 

oOo

The following morning, Don had intended to call his brothers into the lab so that they could watch him perform an ultrasound prior to the drive upstate. But in the end, he had chickened out, since it would have required him to show them his bare stomach. Instead, he printed out some still photos and packed them in his suitcase. 

April had stopped by and given him the clothes that she and Casey had purchased. Don had put the bags aside and added a portable sewing kit. Raphael was driving the van, and Leonardo was riding shotgun to help navigate. Don kept his hands busy on the drive by adding elastic panels to the waists. 

Michelangelo was sharing the backseat with Don. “You sure that’ll be enough elastic?” Mikey asked. 

Don couldn’t tell if it was an honest question or if it was meant as teasing, so he gave his brother the benefit of the doubt and answered seriously. “No, but I can’t imagine that I’ll be wearing them much after this trip, so I think I’ll be fine.”

“Probably, but you’re getting bigger fast now,” Michelangelo observed. 

Don furrowed his brow. “I know, Mikey. We don’t need to talk about it.”

Mikey was baffled by that answer. He liked to talk  
about everything. “What? Are you scared?”

“This hasn’t exactly been fun for me. And no, I’m not looking forward to getting bigger.” Don released a breath. “Frankly, I’d rather not think about it.”

“You still want the babies though, right?” Mikey checked. 

“Of course,” Don said immediately. “I just don’t like being, uh, carrying them. I mean, I’m sure it will be worth it, but it’s definitely not fun.”

Speaking of not having any fun, Don was starting to feel car sick again. He put his sewing aside, placed both hands on his middle, leaned back, and closed his eyes. 

Michelangelo saw what was going on and dug through his bag. “Would some peanut butter crackers make you feel better?”

Don opened one eye. “That depends. Did you put anything weird in them?”

“Nope, plain old wheat crackers and creamy peanut butter.”

Don smiled. “Thanks, Mikey.”

Don nibbled on a cracker, and it settled his stomach a little. “Hey, do you want to see some pictures of the babies?”

“Dude, you’ve got pictures? Why are you just telling me this now?!” Mikey roared. 

Raphael was momentarily distracted and hit a pothole. Donatello yelped in pain and clutched his back. 

“Sorry,” Raphael grumbled. “But for the love of… no sudden yelling, please!”

Don kept one hand on his back and dug through his bag with the other. He found the envelope with the pictures and handed it to Michelangelo with a wince. 

“Oh, are these them?” Mikey squealed, more quietly. 

“Yeah.” Don grinned as he watched Mikey open the envelope. His nausea spiked again, and he realized that he was nervous. This was the first time anyone in his family would see the babies. He finished his cracker and dropped both hands back to his belly, rubbing it a little as he intently watched his brother. 

Mikey eagerly gazed at the first photo. “Is that… a head?”

“That’s the shell,” Don clarified. “See the shape? This is my favorite picture because it shows parts of all three. That bump right there is one of the second baby’s arms holding onto the back of the first baby’s shell.”

“They’re hugging!” Mikey interrupted. 

“Yeah,” Don said warmly. “And that thing floating on the other side of the photo is the third one’s foot.”

“Oh, cute foot!” Mikey bubbled. “Two toes just like us!”

“Well, they are our kids,” Don noted. 

“Any pictures of their faces?” Mikey asked as he flipped to the next photo, which was a close up of a three-fingered hand. 

“Just keep flipping,” Don encouraged. 

“What the heck is this?” Mikey balked. 

“Heart,” Don explained. “Nice and healthy.”

“A face! A face!” Mikey hollered. 

Raphael swerved. “Mikey!”

Don moaned and held his back. 

“Sorry. I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to see these,” Mikey proclaimed. 

“I will, when I’m not driving,” Raphael grumped. 

“If you can't control yourself, Mikey, you’re going to need to put those away. This strikes me as a nice activity for the four of us around the dinner table later,” Leonardo said. 

“Finnnne,” Michelangelo huffed. He put the pictures back into the envelope and handed it to Don, who tucked it away. There would be plenty of time to show them off later.


	27. Chapter 27

The turtles were all thrilled to reach the farm. Donatello was having a variety of stomach problems that made the ride decidedly unpleasant for everyone. Tension was running high by the time they arrived. No one had been to the farmhouse in months, so everyone kept busy cleaning and unpacking for several hours, which was great for burning off their pent up energy and frustration. 

Don ate far less on the travel day than usual. He was on top of his brothers the whole time and felt really self-conscious about his food intake. He spent the night with them in the loft, wavering between feeling starving and overpoweringly nauseous. For the second night in a row, he hardly slept, and the lack of food and rest had given him a splitting headache. 

At about three AM, he began to find himself being bothered by the soft moonlight streaming through the window and realized that a migraine would be coming on if he didn’t do anything to address it. He knew his triggers well at this point and decided that the lesser of two evils would be to sneak downstairs for a snack. 

Don took some apples since they’d be easily replaced, given that the farm had an orchard. He also opened an almond granola bar that he had taken from his private stash in the city. 

As quiet as he had tried to be, he must have triggered Leonardo’s bro-dar, because said turtle showed up in the kitchen. “You feeling okay, Don?” the leader whispered. 

Don was startled but tried not to show it. “Nauseous and hungry, as usual. Seem to be fighting a migraine,” he answered. 

Michelangelo had told Leonardo about how the bumpy ride had affected Donatello. He’d been practically lying down by the time that Raphael had navigated the final dirt road that led to the farm. “How’s your back?” Leo asked, gently. 

Don smiled weakly, happy to be getting some sympathy. “A little better.”

Leo crossed to the stove and began filling the kettle with water. “Let’s brew some of that peppermint tea. It’ll help with the nausea, right?”

Don nodded. “Thanks, Leo.”

“I’m sure you need to rehydrate as well, given how many times you needed to make pit stops on the drive up,” Leonardo continued. 

Don winced. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Leo chuckled. “That might be for the best.”

The brothers sat in silence while the water boiled. Don ate his food slowly, happy that he was beginning to feel better, and that Leo seemed to want to take care of him.

“Hey, you never showed me those pictures of the babies,” Leonardo remarked, as he put a cup of tea in front of Don. 

“They’re in an envelope on top of the fridge, if you’d like to see them,” Don quietly answered. He massaged his temples while Leo began looking through them. 

Leonardo was much quieter about it than Mikey had been. He got through the whole set, then put them neatly away. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Leonardo said when he was done. He had a faraway look in his eyes. 

“It is. They’ll be worth all the trouble, I’m sure.” Don took a sip of his tea and watched Leo carefully. 

Leo met Don’s gaze. “I'm sure too. It’s just really hard to watch you go through this.” The van ride had been tough for Leo. There was no escape or break from Don and his ailments. He wanted to help, but there was nothing that could be done. 

“I’m okay, Leo.”

“Maybe so, but you’re only about halfway through this… gestation, and won’t the end be even more dangerous?” Leonardo asked. 

Don dropped his gaze to the teacup in his hands. “It might be, but we can only take it one day at a time.”

“I can’t stand feeling helpless,” Leonardo mourned. “Never have been able to stand it.”

Don shrugged. “I’m having a hard time too, you know?”

“I do. In fact, there’s something I’d been wanting to talk to you about,” Leo said tentatively. 

“What’s that?”

Leo sighed. “Raph, he… he had asked me to talk to you about your eating.” Don opened his mouth, but Leo raised a hand. “Hear me out. This was weeks ago, and I didn’t do it for a reason.”

Don closed his mouth and Leo continued. “I get that you need comfort right now, and I suspect that a part of this is stress eating. Even if it is, I know that the babies need the food anyway.”

Leo paused. Don nodded for him to go on. “I probably shouldn’t be giving you medical advice. You know so much more than me. It’s just that, you’re still vomiting so often. Do you think that controlling your food intake might help with that?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Don snapped irritably. “I know what you guys think of me-“

“We don’t think-“ Leo interrupted. 

Don spoke over him. “No. I let you talk, now you listen to me. I don’t want to be like this, Leo. I know food costs money, and that April and Casey have to go through the trouble of buying it, and that Raph needs to go get it from them and haul it back through the sewers. I feel awful that I eat so much, strain our finances, and put everyone through all that trouble, then just turn around and throw it back up. I feel terrible, Leo, but it’s not like I ever asked for any of this,” Don ranted. “I see how you guys look at me when I’m eating. But, I can’t help it.”

Don softened. “I really can’t, and it’s not just because of stress or needing comfort, although you’re right that those things play a part. When I try my hardest not to eat, I get shaky. I get headaches. The nausea actually gets worse, not better. I just need the calories right now, badly. And the fact that I can’t keep anything down means that I need more, not less.”

“But have you tried elimination diets? Maybe something that you’re eating is what’s making you sick,” Leo theorized. 

“It’s the hormones making me sick,” Don insisted. “When I was in Area 51, I could hardly eat at all, and I was sick as a dog. Hormones do things like that. It’s why morning sickness is so common. I think it’s even worse for me because the hormones I’m taking are artificial and completely foreign to my body.”

“But couldn’t all the food be making things worse?” Leo wondered. “I thought morning sickness was usually in the mornings, and only during the first few months. You’re halfway through, and you’re still sick all day.”

“The morning thing is a misnomer, and many people are sick right up until delivery, particularly with multiples. It stinks, but I just have to deal. And, it’s not caused by diet,” Don explained. 

“Could we do a better job of treating it? Help you keep more food down for longer?” Leo wondered. “This cycle that you’re stuck in - it has to be exhausting, Don.”

Don shook his head. “I’m trying to avoid medications. We don't know what they’ll do to the babies, and they’re so hard to get a hold of.”

“What about natural stuff?” Leo asked. 

“You mean like peppermint and ginger?” Don replied a little impishly, glancing meaningfully at his cup. 

“I guess you’ve got me there,” Leonardo admitted. “But, and don’t take this the wrong way, we could ask for outside help.”

“Ask who?” Don contemplated. 

“Well, if we went to Usagi’s planet, we could speak to the healers,” Leo suggested. “They’re used to all sorts of different species, right?”

Don began rubbing his temples again. “Haven’t we already discussed this?”

“Not really,” Leo defended. “You sort of dismissed it immediately.”

“They’re not going to be able to help me, Leo.”

“I wish you’d keep an open mind. It can’t hurt to look into it,” Leonardo encouraged. 

“If this is your way of trying to convince me to reconsider giving the babies up for adoption...” Don warned through gritted teeth. 

“It’s not! I just want to help you. Why do you have to be so defensive about everything?” Leonardo griped. 

“I’m not!” Don growled. Ironically enough, it sounded quite defensive. 

“You are!” Leonardo countered. “I was only trying to help you feel less nauseous and you assumed that I was attacking you for overeating. I suggest you see a healer and you accuse me of attempting to manipulate you into adoption!”

“Okay. I’m… I’m sorry.” Don puffed out a calming breath. “I don’t mean to act like this. I think these hormones are affecting my behavior, and the splitting headache isn’t helping matters.”

“So why not see if there’s something to help?” Leo asked gently. 

Don stared quietly at his hands. “You don’t need to overthink this, Don,” Leo eventually said. “The guys will be up soon. I can open up a portal. We can just… go. Easy as that. And, maybe you’ll feel better.”

“You want to do this today?” Don balked. 

“Why not? Why keep suffering if it’s not necessary?” Leonardo questioned. “You could start feeling better today, and we could have a great vacation.”

“Leo, I’m not sure if I should even go through a portal in my condition,” Don worried. “How do I know that it’s safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Leonardo wondered. “It’s not like it affects other internal organs. You don’t come out a portal with your liver where your lungs should be, right?”

“I’m just trying to be cautious, Leo.”

“I can go talk to Usagi,” Leonardo offered. “He can come back here with a healer if you don’t want to go through a portal.”

Don considered it. “I guess… it couldn’t hurt, right?”

“I don’t see how it possibly could,” Leo agreed. “Come on, I just want to help you, Don. I’m worried about you, and the babies. I need to know that you’ll be okay. Then, we can all just kick back and relax.”

Donatello bit his lip and then nodded. 

Leo smiled. Two hours later he disappeared through a portal. Don immediately regretted the decision. 

oOo

Around mid-morning, another portal appeared, and Leonardo and Usagi came through side by side. Don had been too nervous to attempt to go back to sleep, and at this point, he’d been awake for almost two days straight. The turtle was completely exhausted, but nevertheless, he sprung to his feet when the two walked in. 

“Donatello-San, you have certainly changed since last we met,” Usagi greeted, merrily. “My most heartfelt congratulations to you!”

Don was a bit taken aback. He had expected Usagi to be uncomfortable with what was happening, but he seemed warm and genuine. Don smiled. “Thanks. So, I guess Leo explained everything to you?”

“He did,” Usagi confirmed. “However unexpected this may be, families are built in many ways. You and your brothers are prime examples of this, yes?”

Don smiled even wider. “Yes.”

Usagi bowed to the other two turtles. “Raphael, Michelangelo.”

Michelangelo gave the rabbit a high five, and Raphael slapped him on the shoulder. The group caught up over a late breakfast. Usagi regaled them with tales of his adventures. It was so nice to have company that Don almost forgot what the visit was about. 

“Shall I fetch the healer?” Usagi asked while Raphael washed the dishes. 

Don coughed. “Oh. Um, I guess.” Don looked to Leo, who appeared so hopeful. Don wanted to say no, but he chickened out. “If it’s no trouble for anyone, then… yes, please,” Don finished. 

“Please allow me ten minutes,” Usagi said with a bow. He drew a portal and vanished into it. 

Don turned to his brothers. “Where should we do this?” he asked Leo. 

“A bedroom, I guess?” Leonardo answered. “I’m sure April and Casey wouldn’t care if you used the master.”

“Okay. Well, I’m going to go brush my teeth and splash some water on my face.” Don stood with a wince. “It’s cool if Leo wants to come since this was kind of his thing, but I’d really like some degree of privacy here.”

“I get it,” Mikey said. He did look a little offended. 

“Yeah,” Raph agreed. If anything, he appeared to be relieved. “It’s not like humans have ten people in the room during their doctor appointments.”

“Eh, let’s play some computer games on Don’s laptop,” Mikey replied. “He so rarely leaves it unguarded.”

Donatello decided that he would give them his blessing. “Just don’t mess with anything. Games only.”

Don freshened up and sat on the bed, feeling like an intruder in this room. He pulled off his support garment. He just didn’t want Leo to see it. He hid it beneath a pillow and pulled his tee-shirt back on. His stomach was doing flip flops. He’d never seen a doctor before, unless one was to count Leatherhead. He was scared about what this healer might have to say, but, he was willing to do it to make his brothers happy.


	28. Chapter 28

Leonardo and Usagi returned and introduced the healer. She appeared to be similar to a koala bear, albeit taller. If Donatello had to guess, she was well into middle age. She had deep brown eyes and a kind demeanor. “My name is Mirai,” she said with a bow towards Don. 

Don gulped. “Donatello, but you can call me Don.”

“Congratulations, Donatello.”

Don smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mirai.”

“How are you feeling?” Mirai asked. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be here if I was feeling great,” Don replied with a chuckle.

“This is true. Pregnancy with multiples can be exceedingly difficult for beings that are otherwise prone to singletons. Usagi tells me that you are carrying three children. Is this common for your species?”

“I don’t really have a species,” Don explained. “I’m a cross between human and turtle. Triplets would be rare for humans, but some species of turtle carry many eggs. Some sea turtles lay over one hundred eggs per clutch.”

“I see. Why don’t you tell me what your worst symptoms are?” the healer suggested. 

Don told her everything from the beginning - how the babies were created and implanted, the various modifications that Bishop had made to his body, what ailments arose, and when they occurred. He was honest about how he was feeling now; miserable. 

Mirai looked at his eyes and into his mouth. She asked him to spit into a cup of what appeared to be dirt, and then examined it. She felt his glands and pinched his skin. “Ouch,” Don yelped. 

“My apologies. I am not used to your type of skin,” Mirai explaIned. 

“I’ve never seen a turtle on your planet,” Don remarked. “So I suppose you wouldn’t be.”

Mirai nodded. “Indeed. Reptiles are somewhat rare where I come from. I’ve never tended to one myself. Are you having any problems with your skin?”

Don cast a glance at Leo and then nodded shyly. “Tell me about them,” Mirai encouraged. 

“Well, reptilian skin isn’t the best at stretching,” Don murmured. “Mine is no exception. The skin on my sides has been shedding off in sheets.”

“And this is uncommon for you?” Mirai pressed. 

“It hasn’t happened since puberty,” Don explained. “And it was more gradual then. Not as drastic.”

“Does it pain you?” Mirai asked. 

Don looked at Leo, who had his eyes trained on the floor. “A little, but it’s more of a nuisance than anything. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much as some other things.”

Mirai nodded in encouragement. “Such as?”

“My back is the worst. And, uh, my stomach, you know, nausea and stuff. Plus my abdominal muscles are out of place and prone to spasms, and my plastron is achy from stretching. I don’t sleep much anymore, even though I’m perpetually exhausted. I get a lot of headaches. Sometimes bad ones. My feet hurt and swell when I stand for more than an hour or so. Sometimes I get dizzy or lightheaded. It can be hard to catch my breath.” It felt kind of good to say that stuff, out loud and in front of Leo. 

“May I take a look at your belly?” Mirai requested. 

“Oh, um… sure,” Don stammered. He grimaced and pulled his shirt over his head. 

Mirai ran her hands along his sides, his shell, and his abdomen. She pressed each of his scutes, which was quite painful for the turtle. While she had no stethoscope, she pressed her ear to his middle as though trying to listen to the babies. Don patiently tolerated the exam, although the longer it went, the more useless it seemed. Mirai asked a lot of questions but offered no answers. 

“How long do you expect this gestation to last?” Mirai asked. 

Don was caught off guard, although he probably shouldn’t have been. “Uh, I don’t know for sure. Perhaps three or four more months?” 

“I imagine that your physique was similar to your brother’s before all this?”

Leonardo spoke up from the corner. “Virtually identical.”

“Well, you are quite large,” Mirai commented. 

Don’s voice took on a sharp edge. “So I’ve heard.”

Mirai either didn’t notice or soldiered on anyway. “This is why your back hurts. Are you resting enough?”

“As much as I can,” Don began. 

“Not nearly enough,” Leonardo put in. 

Mirai ignored the dirty glances that the turtles exchanged. “At your size, you should rest on your side as much as possible.”

Donatello already knew this. Anything he said would have sounded sarcastic, so he nodded instead. Leo’s own nod was more smug, at least to Don. 

“This would help both your back and your exhaustion,” Mirai added, uselessly. “Lessening the stress on your body should help with the headaches as well, perhaps even the nausea. These can all be exacerbated by stress.”

“You don’t say?” Don snapped. “All I’ve needed this whole time was a nap, huh?”

“I know that you said you have trouble sleeping. I can provide you with some teas that might help,” Mirai offered, rising above Don’s outburst. She had dealt with hormonal patients before, and Usagi had explained that this turtle was barely past adolescence. 

Don assumed that the exam was over. He sat up and put his shirt back on. He also took a deep breath to calm down. “What’s in the tea?” he asked. 

“Leaves of the aldimore tree, crushed and intermingled with bark from the highland snaregrape bush.”

“I don’t know what those things are,” Don said, levelly. “What are the active ingredients?”

“Come again?” Mirai requested. 

“They are plants that are native to our world, very commonly used in medicine,” Usagi interjected. 

“Yes.” Mirai smiled. “I can also make you a balm of the snaregrape root that may help with the shedding. It is known to ease a number of skin ailments.”

“But what’s in it?” Don pressed. 

Mirai looked at the turtle. “I just told you. It is a common medicine in our world. All natural.”

“Just because it’s common and natural doesn’t mean that it’s safe for a mutant like me,” Don argued. “If I’m going to take it, I need more information. For example, willow bark tea is a common and natural remedy for pain on earth. The active ingredient is salicin. It’s been used for centuries, but if I were to take it now, it could cause complications such as hormone imbalances, bleeding, and circulatory problems in the babies.”

“I can’t tell you what’s in it,” Mirai admitted. “Our ways are not like your ways. We do not have names for these… active ingredients, as you call them. Our healing traditions are based upon millennia of knowledge, passed down and made better from generation to generation. I can’t tell you what chemicals are in the tea, only that it works, and that my patients have not suffered for it.”

“How could you know that their babies weren’t harmed in some way?” Don asked. “Unless you’ve never lost one?”

“Of course I have lost unborn babies in my care,” Mirai admitted. “Loss is a part of the process in some unfortunate cases. It is simply the way things are.”

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to risk it,” Don said. “I’d rather bear these discomforts than risk a complication.”

“If Don refuses to take medicine, is there anything else to be done?” Leonardo asked. “Acupuncture? Acupressure? Realigning his spine?”

“I know nothing of these treatments,” Mirai admitted. “I can offer a variety of herbs, teas, food to help with his stomach, but if he doesn’t want them…”

“Well, thank you for coming,” Don said, trying his hardest to sound kind. Normally this came naturally to him, but he was just so cranky and moody. 

“Just a minute,” Leonardo barked. “Mirai, what do you think of Don continuing on with this? Do you think that his body will hold up for four more months?”

“He’s clearly under strain,” Mirai said, calmly. “But I’m not familiar enough with your anatomy to make a judgment at this time.”

“What about the odds of a natural birth?” Leonardo pressed. “His body was physically and chemically manipulated so that he could carry these babies. Don was told that he should be able to give birth naturally, but I’m not sure that we ought to be believing that.”

“I did not conduct an internal exam. Did you wish for me to do so?”

“No!” Don yelped. “That really won’t be necessary. Listen, Mirai, I appreciate you coming all this way. I really do. I’m sure that you are excellent at what you do. It’s just… not for me.”

“It was no trouble,” Mirai said with a smile. “I wish you luck, and will return if you ever request it.”

“Do we owe you any payment?” Leonardo asked. 

“No. I charge only for the treatment, which was not conducted,” Mirai explained. 

“No. You came all this way, and I know I’m a terrible patient,” Don insisted. He looked around for something to offer her. 

“Please. I cannot accept anything,” Mirai reiterated. “It is a matter of honor.” With that, Mirai drew a portal. She and the others exchanged bows before she left. 

After the portal closed, Leonardo put his face in his hands. “Usagi, could you please give us a moment?”

“What?” Don asked, defensively, after the rabbit closed the door behind him. 

“That was an embarrassment, Donatello!” Leonardo barked. “She came all this way for you and you didn’t show her an ounce of respect!”

“She came through a portal. It’s not like she hiked over from the west coast,” Don defended. 

“Coming through a portal was far more than you were willing to do,” Leonardo pointed out. 

“I was looking out for the babies,” Don snapped. “Besides, I take umbrage with the ‘no respect’ thing. I thanked her profusely!”

“And offered no payment!” Leonardo clapped back. 

“I tried to pay, she wouldn’t accept!” Don disagreed. 

“You should’ve bought the darn tea. That was how you pay,” Leonardo barked. 

“For all I know it would’ve poisoned us,” Don shouted. 

“Who said you had to drink it?!” Leo returned. “You buy it, so that you can pay her for her time and trouble, then you throw it out, or maybe test it and see what’s in it. Or, heaven forbid, you try it and maybe feel better!”

“I… I didn’t think of that,” Don conceded. “We can ask Usagi to buy some, then.”

“It’s not just about the tea, Donatello,” Leonardo continued. “You acted like she was some sort of charlatan, not a respected professional!”

“I did not!” Don countered. 

“Oh please.” Leonardo threw his hands up and imitated Don’s voice. “All I needed was a nap, then?”

Don cringed. “Okay. That… wasn’t my finest moment, but in my defense, she didn’t know anything about reptiles. That whole thing with my skin. Plus, she made fun of my size.”

“She did not! She made a simple, clinical observation,” Leonardo insisted. “If anything, she was being sympathetic, and you just cut her down with your smart mouth. You’ve got to stop being so darn sensitive.”

“If it was a clinical observation, it was just about the only one she offered,” Don retorted. “She didn’t offer me anything useful at all.”

Leonardo shook his head. “She might have if you hadn’t fought her tooth and nail the whole time.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Don argued. “I let her poke and prod me for an hour in the hopes that she would give me something useful. It never came.”

“Did it occur to you,” Leonardo voiced, obviously frustrated, “that she was developing a baseline? She admitted she’d never had a reptilian patient. And, those remedies might have been useful.”

“I don’t want them!” Donatello practically roared. “Why do you keep trying to force this on me?!”

Leonardo opened his mouth, then closed it. He put both hands in the air. “You know what? This is no good for either of us. I’m embarrassed. You’re mad. I’m mad. Why don’t we just… cool off? I’m going to go apologize to Usagi. See what we need to do to make this right.”

Don wrinkled his brow. It seemed to him that Leonardo was blowing this way out of proportion. He hadn’t behaved that badly. Had he? Either way, Leo was right that further arguing would only make things worse.


	29. Chapter 29

Don hid out in the bedroom and inadvertently dozed off. The nap was very much needed, but he was upset to see that Usagi was gone when he woke up. Maybe he really was rude. He sat down at the kitchen table and wrote thank you/apology notes to both Mirai and Usagi. Leonardo promised to deliver them that evening. 

But first, Leo wanted to talk. This trip was supposed to be about bonding, after all. Since the turtles had a tendency to talk over each other and vie for attention, Leonardo created a ‘talking stick,’ and explained that only the person holding it could speak. The others had to listen. 

“Ain’t that from a movie?” Raphael asked. 

“It’s from Native American culture,” Leonardo explained. 

“Pretty sure it’s from a movie,” Raphael insisted. 

“I have the stick,” Leonardo said as he shook it. “No talking. Unless you’d like to go first, that is.”

Surprisingly, Raphael extended a hand and took the stick. 

“Okay, well, I just want to say that I understand that both Don and Mikey want to raise the babies on earth, and I gather that things didn’t go so well with the healer this morning. As much as this scares me, I’m just gonna keep my mouth shut from here on out. I’m gonna trust Don to keep himself healthy, and trust April to watch over him and help out with the birth. In the meantime, I want to help out as much as I can around our home so that Don can relax and focus on his health and getting ready for the babies.” Raphael took a breath. “And for what it’s worth, I may not be much of a baby-person, but I’m not going to hate the kids or anything. I mean, I wouldn’t choose any of this, but it is what it is.”

With Raphael apparently done, Michelangelo frantically gesticulated that he wanted the next turn. Raphael grimaced and handed over the stick. 

“This is supposed to be a fun vacation. Do we really have to ruin it with these boring exercises?” Mikey looked accusingly to Leonardo, who could only throw his hands up defensively, since he wasn’t allowed to speak, as per his own rules. 

“When did we all decide to stop having fun? I get that we need to talk, but it’ll just come naturally if we let it. I mean, think about it - we could all be fishing right now, or swimming, or hiking, or whatever. Why do we choose to sit around and do this on a beautiful summer day, especially after this morning’s fiasco?”

Donatello blushed and Leonardo motioned that he wanted the talking stick, but Michelangelo sighed and kept on going. “I get that the babies are a serious topic, but Don seems healthy enough to me. If he says he’s okay, we should trust him. Stress is bad. Fun is good. Let’s just relax and have fun. That’ll help with our bond more than this.” Mikey shook the stick in his hand. 

Don reached out and took it. “Mikey’s right. I’m all for listening to whatever you guys have to say, but when you get right down to it, everyone seems to be mostly worried about my health. You guys need to trust me when I say that I’m okay. The best thing that I could do for myself right now is to de-stress. So, I’d really love for us all to just take a swim. Can’t we just hike down to the lake and talk on the way?”

Don handed the stick to Leo, since this was his exercise. “No one wants to do this then?” Leonardo asked. Everyone shook their heads no. “Fine. Let’s just go to the lake. We’ve got a couple of hours before sunset. We’ll pack hot dogs and roast them over a fire for dinner.”

“I can’t have hot dogs. Too many nitrates. But, you guys go ahead. I’ll make myself some sandwiches.” Don got up and went to the fridge. 

“Please go easy on the supplies,” Raphael requested. “We just got here, and I don’t want to have to go to the store tomorrow.”

Don huffed. “I’m making two sandwiches. I won’t be using all ten loaves of bread.”

“Fine. I’m just saying. We’ll be there for a few hours,” Raphael pointed out. “You’re going to want more than just two sandwiches.”

“I’ll bring some apples,” Don replied. “No store required. And, this is something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I’m sensitive about my eating, okay? I’d appreciate it if you guys kept your food-related comments to a minimum. And, your size-related comments, for that matter.”

Raphael raised an eye ridge. “Really? Since when are you so uptight?”

Don turned a little red in the cheeks. “I’m just sensitive right now. I’m doing my best when it comes to eating, and my size is out of my control. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, and there’s nothing that I can do about it. I’d rather not have the constant reminders.”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Raphael said. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was only supposed to be playful. Seemed better than ignoring the elephant in the room.”

“Raph,” Leo said warning. 

“What?” Raph asked innocently. Then it dawned on him that it had been a poor choice of phrase. “Shoot, Don! I didn’t mean it like that!”

Don just turned back to making his sandwich. “Whatever you say,” he grumbled. 

oOo

The guys hiked out to the lake, making idle chit chat along the way. Once they arrived, Raphael set about fishing, determined to catch himself something better than a hot dog for dinner. Leonardo picked a seat in a secluded spot along the shore and dropped into a meditative pose. Don and Mikey splashed off into the water and swam out a few hundred feet. 

“Want to know a secret?” Mikey asked when they stopped paddling.

“What?” Don wondered. 

“I’m afraid of snapping turtles,” Michelangelo said with a hearty laugh. “I’m always so relieved to get out of the shallows.”

Donatello laughed too. A turtle that was afraid of turtles. “They could probably bite a toe off without much trouble,” Don admitted.

“Not helping!” Mikey cried. He splashed Don for good measure. 

Don let him get away with it. It felt so nice to be in the water. His body had been aching so much lately, but he didn’t want to monopolize the Lair’s only bathroom by taking baths. His feet were sore from the walk up, and the weightlessness and cool water felt amazing. Don sighed in contentment and floated quietly for a few minutes. 

“Do you think the babies will have superpowers?” Michelangelo asked. 

Don opened one eye. “Huh?”

“Like snapping turtle jaws or whatever? Bishop did create them, after all,” Mikey elaborated. 

“I bet they’ll be strong, like us,” Don replied. “Given how much heartburn I’ve had lately, they may be able to breathe fire.”

“Drink some of the lake water,” Michelangelo suggested. “Maybe that will help.”

“Haha,” Don droned. 

“What? You’re too good to drink the lake water?” Mikey feigned outrage. “May I remind you that we are turtles and this is your natural habitat?”

“Says the guy who just admitted that he’s afraid of snappers!” Don shot back. “And, I’m not above drinking lake water. I just don’t think that it will cure my heartburn.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Michelangelo teased. 

Don chuckled. “I guess it will have to remain a mystery, then.”

“Speaking of mysteries,” Mikey began mischievously. “Any thoughts about the babies’ genders?”

“Not yet,” Don admitted. “I don’t think that we’ll know for sure until they’re born.”

“But what do you want?” Michelangelo prodded, his eyes wandering to where the top of Don’s belly was protruding above the water. 

Don saw where Mikey was looking and let his body sink down, shifting from floating to treading water. He looked at his brother. “I don’t know. A mix would be nice, I guess.”

“What do you think girls would look like?” Michelangelo wondered. 

Don hummed. “I would imagine that they’d look like us.”

“Do you think they’d have hair?” Michelangelo continued. 

“I doubt it,” Don answered. “We don’t, so why would they?”

“I just picture girls with hair,” Mikey replied, spitting a stream of water like a fountain. “If they’re girls, do you think that when they get older they’ll… you know… develop like girls?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, given that we aren’t really mammals,” Don answered thoughtfully. 

“I can’t imagine what that would look like,” Michelangelo rambled. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Don replied. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Maybe they’ll want to wear clothes,” Michelangelo guessed. “Girls love fashion, right?”

“Some,” Don said, growing rather weary of the conversation. 

“Speaking of clothes, what’s up with you lately?” Mikey asked. 

Don shot him a dirty look. “I’m self-conscious about my body.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?!” Don snapped. 

“Because you look different now?” Mikey guessed. 

“Bingo,” Don spouted in a deadpan voice. 

“But the clothes are only making you look more different,” Mikey observed. “You’re a turtle in your natural habitat right now, and you’re wearing swimming trunks and a tee-shirt for crying out loud!”

“I’m not trying to pretend I’m not different. I just… prefer to be covered up,” Don tried to explain. “I’m shedding, and my body looks strange. My plastron is itchy. I just… Can we not talk about this anymore?”

“Fine. Sorry.” Michelangelo moped for a minute, then brightened. “Any thoughts about names?”

Don cringed. “Not really.”

“What?” Mikey cried. “You’d better get on that!”

“I know, I know,” Don said. “Can we be done with the 20 questions? I’m just trying to relax.”

“I didn’t realize that I was bothering you,” Mikey pouted. “I’ll be quiet.”

Michelangelo adopted a spread eagle position and floated silently. Instead of feeling relaxed, Don began to feel guilty. He knew that Mikey was just being Mikey. “Sure is nice out here,” Don said after a few minutes. 

“Yeah,” Mikey agreed, still looking skyward. “You ever think about moving out here? Might be better for the kids than the sewers.”

There was another heavy question Don didn’t feel like dealing with. “You know, I think I’m getting a headache,” Don realized. “I might go sit on the shore for a while. Nothing personal.”

Mikey watched his brother swim back. He wasn’t sure if Don was just making an excuse to ditch him. When he got to the shore, Don sat down in the shade and rubbed his temples. Eventually, Don curled up and fell asleep in the sand. Leo checked on him and then joined Mikey in the water. 

“Aha!” Raphael hollered triumphantly. 

Don snapped awake. “What!” 

Raphael proudly showed off a five-pound largemouth bass. “I finally caught something worth keeping.” The fish was thrashing as it dangled on the line. “Can you hold this for a minute while I dig the knife out of our bag?”

Donatello reached out and took the line. The fish stopped struggling for a moment. Don made the mistake of looking into its eyes. It’s gills opened and closed desperately, and it began to thrash again. Don looked to Raphael. “What are you going to do with the knife?”

“Filet it, knucklehead,” Raphael answered as he rummaged through the bag. “You didn’t think that I was going to eat it whole, did you?”

“No, but what… what if it has a family?” Don whimpered. 

Raphael looked at Don as if he had two heads. “You serious?”

Don didn’t answer, but Raphael couldn’t help but notice that Don’s lower lip was quivering. 

“Fish don’t even have families!” Raphael bellowed. 

Don rubbed his aching forehead. “How do you know?”

Raphael groaned. “Even if they do, you eat fish, Donatello. Sushi is your favorite food, for crying out loud!”

“Don’t remind me how much I miss sushi,” Don moaned. 

“But you don’t want to eat this fish?” Raphael attempted to understand. 

“I don’t want it to die,” Don replied. 

“Are we seriously having this conversation?” Raphael wondered. “We’re ninjas. It’s not like we haven’t killed anything before!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever killed!” Don defended. 

“How do you know?” Raphael mimicked Don’s question of a minute ago. 

“I’d know, wouldn’t I?” Don wondered. 

“I know I’m killing this fish.” Raphael celebrated as he found the knife. 

“Don’t!” Don begged. 

“Will you get a hold of yourself? We’re not vegetarians, and you knew I was fishing for my dinner,” Raphael pointed out. 

“But look at it,” Don cried as he held the fish higher. “It’s innocent and defenseless.” 

“So was the tuna in the sandwich that you ate yesterday,” Raphael noted. “Besides, we're trying to save money on food.”

“What does a hot dog cost, 50 cents?” Don asked. “I’ll pay you back.”

Raphael crossed his arms. “Way more than one animal died in the making of that hot dog. I promise you that.”

Don took to his feet surprisingly quickly and scrambled towards the lake. “Don’t you dare!” Raphael yelled. Don was a half step ahead, deftly unhooking the fish as he booked it towards the water. Raphael reached out an arm and grabbed Don’s wrist. 

Don managed to fling the fish into the water before grasping his back and yelping. Raphael let go of Don’s wrist, and Don clutched his back with both hands. 

“I can’t believe that you did that!” Raphael yelled. 

“My back,” Don whined. “That hurt.”

“You deserved it,” Raphael reasoned. “If you were anyone else, I would’ve tripped you.”

Leonardo appeared on the shore, having just swum back with Mikey. “What’s going on?” he demanded. 

“I caught a fish, and Donatello here took it upon himself to release it,” Raphael explained. 

“Why?” Leonardo asked. 

Don was still rubbing his back. “I just didn’t want to see it die.”

“This pregnancy is making him crazy,” Raphael complained. 

“Is your back okay?” Leonardo asked. Don shook his head no, and Leo helped him sit down. 

Raphael snatched his pole up from the sand and stalked off. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side,” he yelled at Leo.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” Leonardo insisted. “I’m just worried about his back.”

Raphael stopped walking and turned around. “I didn’t do anything to his back!”

“No one said you did,” Leonardo pointed out. 

“My back will be fine,” Don spoke up. “I just stopped too fast. And, Raph will be fine if he has to eat hot dogs for dinner.”

“I intend to catch another fish, Donatello,” Raphael announced as he shook the fishing rod. 

“Just don’t show it to me, and we won’t have any issues,” Don suggested. 

“You sure?” Raphael spat. “Seems we never can tell what you’re going to take issue with lately.”

“Just go,” Don dismissed. After Raphael obeyed, Don groaned and shifted his position in the sand in the hopes of easing his pain. 

“So is there anything you want to tell me?” Leonardo asked as he placed a hand on Don’s shell. The genius had always had a soft heart, but this was over the top, even for him. 

Don didn’t feel like talking, but he figured that he’d better, if he wanted to salvage the afternoon. “I’d been having a bad dream right before Raph woke me up. I guess I just overreacted.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Michelangelo asked as he came to sit in the sand.

“Bishop stealing the babies from me. I couldn’t save them.” Don chuckled sadly. “Then suddenly I was awake and face-to-face with that fish, and it seemed so helpless, just like them.”

“Oh, Donnie,” Mikey gushed. “Did you think that fish was one of your babies?”

Don laughed and rubbed his back. “No. I was awake enough to know better. I just… couldn’t let it die.”

“You should explain to Raph that you had a nightmare,” Leonardo suggested. “He’d understand.”

“Raph will cool off,” Mikey countered. “What you did is no worse than the stuff that I do to him on a regular basis.”

“Yes, and then he comes complaining about it to me.” Don then realized something. “Or at least he used to.” It had been months since Raphael had last come to Don to unburden himself. Don wondered when that had changed.


	30. Chapter 30

The trip to the farmhouse wasn't working out like Donatello had hoped that it would. While this vacation had been intended to alleviate stress, it was only adding to it. Everyone was right on top of each other all the time, and arguments just seemed to fester instead of being resolved. 

In desperate need of some time alone, Donatello decided to tinker with an old tractor that had been rusting away in the barn over the course of the past several decades. He figured that if he couldn’t get along with his family, at least he could do something useful for Casey and April. 

It was a beautiful summer day, and after a few hours of work, Don took a break for a late morning snack. He took a leisurely stroll down to the orchard and grabbed a few apples. There was a little pond used for irrigation, and Don decided to sit near it for a while. He admired the view as he spent a few minutes stretching out his achy back, then he carefully lowered himself to the tall grass, extending his green feet out into the water in front of him. 

Don sighed and took in the sight of his swollen abdomen. After staying on the small side for so long, it now seemed to be growing exponentially. Its rapidly increasing size served as a constant reminder of how far along he was, and how much he needed to accomplish prior to giving birth. 

Don knew that he had to start planning in earnest. He still hadn't decided where to put the nursery. He really needed to figure it out soon, because it was high time that he started building the cribs, and they would need a place to go. The babies couldn't sleep in his room forever. Should he give up his lab and convert it to a nursery, or move his room to the lab and give the babies his bedroom? What about feedings? Would the babies be able to drink from regular human baby bottles, given that they would have beaks? Did he need to modify them, somehow? And what about diapers, for that matter? Would they fit securely enough over a shell to remain watertight? Would it be best if the babies wore clothes in the beginning to stabilize their body temperature? Then there was… basking. 

Don’s scales were slowly heating in the sunlight, the bright light washing out his vision. It felt so nice. So relaxing…. He leaned fully back onto his shell, one arm behind his head. His other hand continued to feel the growing curves of his belly, as he focused on the fluttering movements of the new lives within it. They seemed awfully worked up. Could they feel the warmth of the sunlight too? Don relaxed more and more, his constantly buzzing mind going almost blank for once. This was the vacation that he had been wanting so badly. The air was filled with birdsong and the sounds of water lapping. The subtle scent of blooming flowers reached his nose from the nearby meadow. For the first time in a long time, he was fully at peace. 

After a half an hour of relishing life’s simple pleasures, Donatello dozed off. He awoke sometime later to the sound of his brothers’ voices. He was about to sit up and say hello when he realized that they were talking about him. He knew that it was wrong to listen, but he couldn’t help it. Only Raphael and Michelangelo were there. Leonardo must not have come. 

“If anything, this week has proven that we are not ready to be parents,” Raphael was growling. 

“But you saw him with the fish!” Michelangelo replied. “His daddy instincts are totally kicking in.”

“It was irrational,” Raphael argued. “Don’s gone bonkers.”

“Aw. You’re just bitter because you didn’t get to eat it!” Michelangelo answered. “He’s just gonna be a protective dad.”

“I hardly think that’s the case, given that he refuses to seek proper medical care,” Raphael barked. “Besides, aside from the mood swings, he doesn’t seem like he’s changed much at all.”

“That’s not true!” Michelangelo disagreed. “I’ve seen him trying to cook.”

“That’s one thing! I don’t see him reading any parenting books, or making any plans for raising them. Nothing like that,” Raphael pointed out. “He’s the same old Don, locked up in his lab all the time, focusing on nothing but his projects while ignoring everything else.”

Donatello cringed. It was like Raphael had seen inside his mind, then given voice to all of his self-doubts and insecurities. 

“It’s not like we know what he’s up to in there,” Michelangelo countered. “He’s probably made all sorts of stuff for the babies. He built that ultrasound machine. We know he’s putting stuff together for the birth.”

“And that’s where it all ends,” Raphael said flatly. “Because we all know that’s as far as he goes. It’ll be up to the rest of us to raise them. Don knows it, and we know it.”

“He’s not going to die!” Michelangelo yelled. 

“Why do you think he did that to me with the fish?” Raphael asked. “He wants me to be kinder and gentler like him - a better father. He knows that he’s not going to be around, so he’s trying to soften me up.”

“You’re reading way too much into that,” Michelangelo said, sounding rather shaken. “Donnie doesn’t think he’s going to die, and he’s not trying to change you!”

Raphael laughed bitterly. “Believe you me, he’s trying to change us all. Transforming us into parents is just about the biggest change we could make.”

“It’s not like this was his choice,” Michelangelo said. 

“Maybe not, but it’s his choice to keep them,” Raphael bellowed. “He doesn’t give a damn what the rest of us think, or what the rest of us want, and that includes those kids!”

All this time, Don had been waiting for a chance to pipe up and reveal his presence. He realized now that it was too late. Even though he hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, there was no way that he could make himself known now. So, he sat and listened to Raphael unload on Michelangelo about how Don wasn’t involving them in decisions and wasn’t prepared for parenthood, how he was risking his own life and not considering the wants and needs of his brothers and future children. 

Don didn’t know that Raphael still felt this way. He thought that many of these matters were settled. But now he realized that they were only settled in his own mind. Raphael just sounded so unhappy, and Michelangelo sounded nothing like himself. He didn’t joke at all; he defended Don tirelessly. Clearly, Michelangelo had replaced Don as Raphael’s confidante. It was a bittersweet revelation at best. 

Don wondered if there was any repairing the damage to his family. Raphael was clearly unhappy and frightened to his core. Michelangelo sounded too old and too tired. And Leonardo - he just seemed desperate to hold it all together, but at a loss for ideas about how to do so. And, it was all Don’s fault, he realized. Worse, he had no idea how to fix it. 

After his brothers left, Don snuck out of the orchard and took the short walk to his father’s grave. He could tell that Leonardo had recently been there. The gravel was freshly raked, and blue flowers were placed on the unmarked stone. Don added some orchids he had picked from the pond’s edge, then he carefully took a seat. 

“Hey, Dad,” he whispered. “You’re not going to believe it, but you’re going to be a grandpa.”

The babies responded to the sound of Don’s voice. He could feel them moving within him and put a hand on his swollen plastron. “The grandkids say hello.”

Don nearly choked on a sob he wasn’t expecting. “Oh, Dad. I wish you were here now. You’d know what to do to make things right.” 

Don spent a few minutes thinking, trying to meditate in his own way, perhaps even to commune with his father’s wise spirit. 

“Am I a terrible brother?” he asked aloud. “What if… what if I’m a terrible father? How did you learn how to be a good parent?” 

Splinter started life as just a simple rat from the sewers. It couldn’t have come easy for him, but he had somehow mastered the art of raising children. Donatello had never thought to ask his father for parenting advice when he was alive, because, well, who would have ever thought that he would find himself in this position? It was so heartbreaking that he would never have the chance to talk to his Dad again. 

“What if… what if I die too?” Don rubbed his belly. It was getting so big, and he still had months to go. Maybe he was being foolish to believe that he would be okay. He felt so tired and sick all the time. If he did die, maybe he would at least get to see his Dad again. 

Don was met with only silence. “We miss you so much,” Don whispered into the wind. “I miss you so much.”

That night, Donatello hesitated before taking his dose of hormones. He wondered if they were doing this to him - making him behave differently, making him forget how to laugh at himself and relate to others. For the first time, he considered not taking them. But then, he felt that stirring within him. He couldn’t risk hurting his babies. It was only another three or four months. Don told himself that things would be okay. He just had to work harder. 

oOo

Don decided to drive on the way home. He figured that it would be the best way to allow the others to relax, and also to provide a distraction for himself so that he wouldn’t get too emotional. 

“I’m sorry if that wasn’t the best vacation, guys. Feels like I’m saying ‘I’m sorry’ a lot lately, but I am. I’m sorry,” Don began. “If there’s anything that you want to get off your chests, let’s say it now so that we can have a fresh start once we get home.”

“Where’s Leo’s talking stick?” Raphael grumbled. 

“I’ll start,” Don said firmly. “Listen, I’m not dying. I’m not trying to change anyone or force my decisions onto you guys. If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“Go where?” Michelangelo wondered. 

“Wherever you want,” Don replied. “Usagi’s world, or whatever.”

“What about the Triceraton?” Leonardo asked. 

“I guess I’d just have to trust Bishop to handle them,” Don answered. “My blueprints for the EDS are in pretty good shape. The prototypes appear to be working properly. Valeria has access to all of my notes and plans. EPF can fully take over, if they need to.”

“We don’t want you to go,” Michelangelo spoke up. 

“Speak for yourself,” Raphael snapped. 

“Raph!” Leonardo chastised. 

“No,” Don interrupted. “It’s okay. Let him talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say that hasn’t already been said,” Raphael went on. “I know I said that I’d trust you, but to be honest, I don’t think you’re okay. I think that you need a damn doctor! This whole thing with you and April just muddling your way through and hoping for the best is ridiculous, and shame on the rest of us for just turning a blind eye to it. What’s more, I don’t think the babies will be as happy here as they could be somewhere else. I don’t think we’re ready to be parents.”

Don puffed out a breath and glanced downwards. “I am, believe it or not. My place is with them. But, I’ll go wherever you guys want me to. I don’t want to destroy this family.”

“We all belong together,” Leonardo said with a smile. “We’re not going to send you into exile. Wherever we go, we go together.”

Don got a little teary. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. I know I’ve been hard to live with, over-emotional.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Raphael observed. 

“It’s the hormones,” Don explained. “Combined with all the stress I’ve been under, they’re making me crazy. But that’s only temporary, and I’ll try to do better in the meantime.”

“So do we get rid of this stress by heading over to Usagi’s world?” Raphael encouraged. “Let earth fend for itself for a little while?”

“I don’t want to go,” Michelangelo spoke up. “New York is our home. I don’t want to leave it unprotected from Hun and the Triceraton. I’d miss our Lair and my comic books and video games. Usagi’s world is so boring.”

“If you weren’t sitting all the way over there, I would slap you,” Raphael mourned. “You’d let Donatello die because you don’t want to give up video games?”

“Don has more tech to take care of his medical needs here!” Michelangelo defended. “Isn’t that right, Donnie?”

Don frowned. He wanted to stay in his home too, but voicing that seemed like backpedaling. “My equipment to monitor myself and the babies is in good shape. April and I are doing well with the birth plan. So far, I’ve been okay. I would prefer to stay in New York too. But, I don’t want to insist that it has to be my way. What do you think, Leo?”

“Mirai admitted that she did not know much about reptiles,” Leonardo replied. “And, you do seem to be doing okay so far. The babies are all healthy. You’re still active and on your feet.”

“We’re staying!” Michelangelo cheered. 

“But, I do think that you’ll need surgery,” Leonardo said, firmly. “I know that you have a plan, and that April is smart and capable, but, that really scares me, Donnie.”

“It scares me too,” Donatello admitted. “But I don’t think that Mirai would be any better than the options that I have here. I get the impression that surgery is really an option of last resort in Usagi’s homeworld.”

“Maybe we can think about it more as the time gets closer. It’s not like this is an emergency situation yet,” Leonardo decided. 

“An emergency can happen just like that,” Raphael said with a snap of his fingers. 

“I know,” Leonardo agreed. “But, let’s not forget that Bishop doesn’t want to lose Don and the babies either. Scary as it sounds, he’s probably still our best bet if a medical emergency arises.”

Don removed a hand from the steering wheel to protectively clutch his midsection. “He’d take my babies.” A shiver ran down Don’s spine. “After all the stunts I’ve pulled, I’m sure he would.”

“But, you’d probably all live,” Raphael countered. 

“Let’s just think on all of this,” Leonardo decided. “For what it’s worth, we might’ve actually made some progress, here.”

“We’re staying in New York!” Michelangelo cheered. 

Don smiled to himself. He was just happy that they were staying together.


	31. Chapter 31

Vacation was over now, and there was so much work to catch up on at home. The build team had sent Donatello some feedback on his latest designs for the EDS. The computer software that Don had written had finished testing and analyzing Hun’s antenna. After overhearing Raphael say that he wasn’t preparing enough for fatherhood, Don figured he should begin work on the nursery. He wanted everyone to have a visible reminder that he was fully committed to parenting the triplets. 

Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo headed to the surface for patrol, so Donatello decided to give Valeria a call to catch up before setting about rearranging furniture. 

“Don! It’s been a little while,” Valeria greeted. “I just heard back from my doctor and it turns out that a genetic anomaly makes my hair impervious to dying.”

Don smiled. “Sorry to hear that. So, how have you been otherwise?”

“Super busy,” Valeria answered. “The Triceraton have been very talkative lately.”

“Any chatter about Earth, or my antenna-related heroics?” Don asked. He had told her about stealing the antenna and breaking Hun’s jaw before he left for vacation. She’d been pretty impressed, and it had made him feel… things. Despite their distance, she still had effects on him. 

“Nothing direct,” Valeria told him. Her voice became very serious. “But Don, I’m worried. They’ve been talking about another invasion. Earth hasn’t been mentioned yet, but it’s clear that they’re headed somewhere. My guess is that it’s here.”

Don’s stomach churned. “Well, I guess all we can do is forge ahead with the EDS. This antenna should help. If I can figure out how it transmits precise messages to deep space, then I can use that knowledge to drastically increase the range and accuracy of the EDS.”

“When do you think you’ll be done with your prototype?” Valeria wondered. 

Don put a hand on his belly. He wished that he could tell her about the babies. He really did want to prioritize them, to start work on the nursery and begin planning for their births in earnest. But, how could he do that when the safety of earth was at stake? Even though he had told his brothers that EPF could handle things, he knew that he was the best person for the job. The turtles had decided to stay on earth, so of course, that meant that Donatello would do everything in his power to protect it. 

He’d just have to balance everything. That’s what parents do, after all. “Within the next few months, I hope,” he answered. 

oOo

The design of the Earth Defense System was genius, really. Donatello had created it to essentially hide the location of the planet from unwanted visitors. The universe is vast, and it’s easy to forget that everything is in constant motion. Planets orbit, galaxies spiral, everything is always expanding, an ongoing consequence of the Big Bang. 

Don didn’t know all that much about how interplanetary navigation worked. Given the size of the universe, he doubted that the Triceraton had a working model of each and every one of the countless numbers of solar systems. Most likely, they had a general idea of where things were at any given time, but they refined the coordinates by looking for electromagnetic signals and gravimetric pull. 

Obviously, the Triceraton had been to earth before, which meant that they could probably get here again with relative ease. Don couldn’t completely stop them, but he could send them on a wild goose chase, at least for a little while. 

Don had designed EDS to trick incoming alien spacecraft into thinking that Earth was at the diametric opposite point in its current orbit around the sun. There were several different components to the system, all equally important. 

SETI, earth’s pre-existing satellite system, which was controlled by Bishop and the Earth Protection Force, and had previously been enhanced by Donatello, was constantly scanning for alien activity. If an alien ship was detected, it would send a signal to Area 51, and the first part of EDS would be activated. A deep-space probe that Donatello had designed would move between earth and the incoming spacecraft. This probe would analyze whatever electromagnetic signals earth was giving off at the time, perform a mathematical calculation, then use a series of independently deployed micro-reflectors to deflect them away from the incoming spacecraft. It would create the illusion that Earth was not there. 

The second part of EDS would remain in permanent orbit around the sun, in the exact opposite point of earth’s current location in its orbit. This part of EDS would communicate with the probe. It would then reproduce the electromagnetic waves that earth was giving off from its own location. It could even create the illusion of gravimetric pull. Any spacecraft looking for earth would be drawn to that spot. 

Of course, this would only buy time. Once the spacecraft arrived at the location that Don had tricked it into going to, the extraterrestrials would see that nothing was there. That was when things would get scary. 

Don wanted to give the enemy a chance to run. He hated killing. He really did. But, if it was absolutely necessary, EDS could be turned into a weapon. It would send out a series of warnings in every language that Don knew. He still had his Triceraton communicator, so he had access to millions of dialects. If the spacecraft ignored the warning and persisted in advancing towards earth, and there was absolutely no other recourse, EDS would tear the spaceship apart. Using the same technology that it used to simulate gravitational pull, it would blast out a concentrated wave of energy powerful enough to destroy the spaceship in an instant. It would be the equivalent of throwing a planet at it. 

Don was still working on all of this. The preliminary designs were complete, but the final designs were a work in progress. In the days after returning from the Farm, Don finished his study of the alien tech he had stolen from Hun and shipped it to Area 51 for Valeria to study. In turn, Bishop hired more staff to speed up production of the EDS. The build team was sending Donatello bug reports faster than he could read them. 

Don holed himself up in the lab for two weeks straight after vacation. Despite his earlier insistence upon training, he didn’t join his brothers in their sessions anymore. His family was worried that he was working himself to death. He didn’t look good at all. 

Leonardo didn’t bother to knock when he strode into Don’s lab, Raphael and Michelangelo were hot on his heels. Don never seemed to hear them knock anyway. His mind was always busy with a million other things. “Don!” Leo’s voice boomed. 

Don was standing stooped over his workbench. Some unnameable device was in his hands. He was wearing his mask around his neck, making the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes all the more evident. He swung around to face his brothers, wincing as his back pain flared. 

“When is the last time you slept?” Leonardo questioned harshly. He was in no mood to soften the conversation with pleasantries. 

Truthfully, Don didn’t know the answer to that specific question. He still attempted to sleep at regular intervals, but actually achieving his goal of falling asleep was a different matter entirely. “I’ll go to bed once I finish this test,” he promised, turning back to his work. 

“I'm sure that can wait,” Leonardo insisted. “Take a break.”

“I’m busy,” Don dismissed. “I said that I would go to bed once I’m done.”

“This isn’t about you going to bed,” Leonardo clarified. “It’s about the babies.”

“They’re fine,” Don replied, defensively. “I ran an ultrasound a couple of days ago. They’re all kicking up a storm at the moment, so no need to worry about them.”

“That’s good, but it’s not what I meant.” Leonardo paused to collect himself. “We need to start planning. You can’t keep putting this off.”

Don raised his voice. “No, I can’t keep putting this off!” He gestured to his work. “The safety of our whole planet is at stake.”

“Maybe,” Michelangelo said, his voice infuriatingly calm. “Maybe not. But I think you can spare five minutes to discuss where the babies will be sleeping.”

Don smacked a tool that he was holding onto his workbench and swung around. “They’ll sleep in my room with me. I’m their Dad, so I’ll handle it. There’s no need for you guys to stress.”

Donatello failed to notice the look of shock and disappointment that crossed Leonardo’s face. Leo quickly covered it up. 

“We’re not stressed,” Raphael soothed. “We just want to help. You’re the one who’s stressed.”

Leonardo couldn’t help but let his eyes drift downwards to take in the size of his brother’s very distended abdomen. Don’s facial features were gaunt, as though he hadn’t been getting nearly enough to eat, but his belly had practically doubled in size since they had gotten home. Clearly, the triplets were quickly depleting their father’s bodily resources. Leonardo didn’t know how poor Donnie was still standing, nevermind building all of these super-complex models. Leo hated watching Donatello overwhelm himself like this, but it seemed that all he could do was support whatever decisions his brother had made. To do anything else would simply be piling more stress onto the already struggling genius. 

“If they’re staying in your room, we should start moving your extra furniture and old experiments into the lab. You won’t be on your feet much longer, and we should do a deep clean in there before you go on bed rest,” the leader proclaimed, pushing all of his personal concerns and desires aside yet again. 

“My feet are doing fine, thanks,” Don snapped. “And who said anything about bedrest? Now if you’ll let me get back to work, I’ll be done that much sooner.” After getting that out of his system, Don crashed down into his task chair, as though all his energy had been drained. He rubbed his eyes. “And, once this is done, I’ll get started on the babies’ sleeping area.”

Leonardo grabbed the chair and swung it around so that Don was facing them again. “You keep saying that, but it never happens. Just let us help you, Don!”

“Let you help me?” Don sputtered. “When have I ever told you not to help me?”

“Every time we try to help you, you turn us away!” Leonardo cried. 

“Since when?” Don demanded. 

“Since forever!” Leonardo yelled. “Right now, we are offering to clean and move furniture for you, and you’re blowing us off! You continually avoid teaching Raph vehicle maintenance. You won’t let Mikey help you learn to cook. You insist on doing everything alone, and you keep shutting us out. You promised us that you would stop this. You swore that you would try to do better!”

“I’m not blowing you guys off; I’m just busy,” Don claimed. “I’ll make time for all of that.”

“You don’t need to make time! We have time to do this right now, so you don’t have to! Now, tell us what you need moved so that we can begin to prepare the nursery,” Raphael suggested. “That’s all we're asking.”

Donatello didn’t respond. His big brown eyes opened wider. His hands moved to cradle his belly in a motion that he rarely used outside the confines of his room. 

Leonardo furrowed his brow. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No. I… I can feel them moving,” Don whispered. 

“I thought you said you already could?” Michelangelo replied. 

“Only on the inside. I’ve never been able to feel them through my plastron before.” Donatello gently grasped Leo’s wrist and began to guide it towards him. “See-“ Don cut the sentence off, startled as Leonardo snatched his hand away. 

Leonardo hadn’t really meant to do it. He was operating on instinct. Now he found three sets of surprised eyes looking at him, and the expression on Don’s face was nothing short of shattered. Leonardo really wanted to reach back out. These were his babies too, after all. He struggled with that more than anyone knew. But, if he couldn’t parent them, he at least had to protect them, and protecting them meant looking out for Don, even when Don made that difficult. 

“Stop trying to distract us from the conversation at hand, Donatello!” Leonardo hissed. “You’re working yourself to death, and it needs to be discussed before the situation becomes critical.”

Don stammered, helplessly. “But I wasn’t. It’s just that I never… It’s the first time that I thought someone else might be able to feel them too, and I wanted…”

The moment could’ve been saved if Raphael or Michelangelo reached out, or if Leonardo relented. Leo couldn’t do that. This discussion was too important to be sidetracked, and if he was allowed to feel those babies, his babies, he was going to fall apart in front of everyone. Raphael was too afraid of disrupting the conversation and incurring Leo’s wrath himself. And Mikey, he was shell shocked by this entire turn of events, and frankly, he was tired of constantly being stuck in the middle and playing peacekeeper. And just like that, it was too late. Don pushed himself to his feet, hobbled off to his bedroom and locked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel almost like I owe some readers an apology. I know that after the last chapter, some of you were happy to see that the brothers appeared to be making progress, and now I’ve gone and ruined that. Unfortunately, it was a one step forward, two steps back type of situation. I know that Leo might’ve seemed too harsh, as well. I hope that I did a decent job of explaining his mindset, without giving away some details that I’m saving for later.


	32. Chapter 32

Donatello was pretty upset, and feeling unwanted in his own home, even though it was his brothers’ desire to help him with the nursery that had set off their most recent argument. Although Don had been the one to blow them off and storm out of the room, he was now afraid to bring it up again. 

He slept for a few hours, then began planning for the nursery. He had already decided to keep his room where it was rather than moving it to the lab. He started by boxing up old projects that he had abandoned and quietly rehoming them around the Lair. When Leonardo woke up the next morning, the two exchanged curt nods. Don then disappeared into his room, emerging a little later with a stack of blueprints. 

“You’re finally cleaning out your room?” Leonardo asked. 

“Yes. I’m finally doing it,” Don confirmed. 

Leonardo wanted to volunteer to help, but after last night he assumed that Don wanted his space. He would have been surprised to discover that that was the last thing Don wanted. What Don wanted more than anything was a hug or even a simple apology. He’d been pretty heartbroken that Leo didn’t want to feel the babies. Don hesitated, hoping that Leonardo would make some sort of move to make amends. 

“Let me know when it comes time to move the furniture,” Leonardo said. “I don’t want you straining anything.”

Don nodded and returned to his work. He didn’t emerge for breakfast, or even lunch, choosing instead to work on the nursery area. When he got too achy to keep up the physical labor, he moved into the lab and worked on EDS. He binged on his hidden stash of junk food and avoided both his family and his feelings. The babies moved a lot, and he took great comfort in how strong they seemed to be growing. 

Michelangelo forced Donatello to come out for dinner with the family. Don had been absent so much lately that they hadn’t even realized he was still upset about the night before. Don scarfed his dinner as fast as he could, then made a move to leave. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. 

Michelangelo looked up to see Don beginning his scramble. “Whoa, Don, your waddle game is fierce today. What’s the hurry?”

“Yeah. Where are you going?” Raphael demanded. 

“Back to work,” Don shot back. 

Leonardo stood up. “Did you need us to help move the furniture now?”

“Already did,” Don replied. 

Leonardo was taken aback. “I offered to do that.”

“It was no big deal,” Don dismissed. “In case anyone hadn’t noticed, I’m building a massive intergalactic weapon prototype in the garage. I think I can handle moving a desk to a room down the hall.”

Leonardo frowned. He didn’t like Don’s tone, but the family genius had been so darn temperamental lately. It wasn’t like Don had done anything wrong per se. In fact, he’d done exactly what his brothers had requested - started setting up the nursery. Leonardo decided to drop the matter. 

“Now that you’ve knocked that off your plate, can you finish teaching me about the Battle Shell’s weapon maintenance?” Raphael requested. 

“Fine,” Don huffed. “Meet me in the garage when you’re done with patrol.” Don stomped off towards the garage. 

The triplets didn’t seem to approve of Donatello’s behavior. One of them had worked its way under his ribs, and it really hurt. While his brothers were on patrol, Don searched the web for advice on repositioning babies. He ended up spending a good part of the night on his hands and knees, swaying back and forth in a futile attempt to force them out of his ribs. While it didn’t work, he did succeed in straining his poor back even worse. 

Don cringed when he heard his brothers come home. He didn’t want to face them. He especially didn’t want to be bending over the hood of the Battle Shell, pretending that everything was okay. 

Don managed to get to his feet before Raphael arrived in the garage. He put a hand on his belly, wishing it hadn’t gotten so darn big and heavy. As if sensing its father’s dark thoughts, the baby in his ribs kicked him hard. Don couldn’t help but let out an ‘oof.’

Raphael didn’t seem to notice. He just began chatting idly about how quiet the streets were since Don had knocked Hun out of commission. Don hardly listened at all. He went through the motions of showing Raphael what to do. Then he sort of lost himself in his own misery. 

He knew that he should just go to bed. He was hurting, overtired, and upset, and the hormones were only making things worse. He didn’t want to admit how badly they were affecting him, even to himself, but they were. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He wasn’t in proper control of his emotions. He was about to lose his composure entirely and he knew it. 

Don suddenly realized that Raphael was looking at him expectantly. Had he asked a question? Don couldn’t even recall his brother speaking. He was just so exhausted. Don was going to ask Raph to repeat whatever he had just said, but when he opened his mouth, something else came out, almost against his will. 

“Raphael,” Don said hesitantly. “I just can’t do this right now. I’m sorry to keep ditching you, but I’m too...pregnant.” 

It was the first time Donatello had said that word out loud in front of his family, other than when he was instructing them not to say it themselves. He had been avoiding it at all costs, even though everyone knew exactly what was going on. That particular word was just too feminine, too embarrassing, too blunt and too real. Now that the word had crossed his lips, the impending tears turned to laughter. 

“I think that might be the most outlandish thing that I’ve ever said in my life, and we both know I’ve had some real doozies,” Donatello chuckled. “Too pregnant. I’m too pregnant. How the heck is that even possible? I’m too pregnant for vehicle maintenance. Me. I’m too pregnant. I’m pregnant. How the hell did this happen? How is this my life? Why did this happen to me?”

There they were. Don knew the tears weren’t going to stay gone for long. He went from uncontrollable laughter to a sobbing, hysterical mess in no time flat. “Pregnant,” he wailed, feeling like a crazy person. 

Raphael was more uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life. Why did it have to be him stuck in here alone with Don when he finally lost it? Raphael knew that he should just hug his brother and let him know that it would be alright, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t alright. There was no denying that this whole thing creeped Raphael out, but this moment took the cake. Don was right there in front of him, in hysterics, wavering on his feet, and undeniably pregnant. The thought of holding his brother, having that huge, quivering belly pressed against him - it was repulsive. Raphael loved Don, but there was no other word to describe what he was feeling right now. He was repulsed. Besides, if it were him in Don’s shoes, crying and acting like this, the best thing that he could hope for was for everyone to ignore it, and never, ever, discuss it again. 

Raphael took a step back, and his voice was measured when he spoke. “You’re right, bro. This is clearly too much for you right now. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks. Just go to bed and get some rest. I’ll finish up here, and you can check my work in the morning.”

Don wiped away the worst of the tears with the back of his hand and nodded. He waddled off before he could embarrass himself further, calling a quick thanks and goodnight over his shoulder on the way out. He was completely mortified about his outburst, but the worst part was that he had seen the look on Raphael’s face - sheer disgust. It was just like the night before when Leonardo had pulled his hand away. 

It felt like no one loved him anymore. He was in such desperate need of affection, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given him a hug, or even so much as a simple pat on the back. Would it have really been so difficult for Raphael to just give him the reassurance he so clearly needed? That night, he cried himself to sleep. 

oOo

The next day, Don focused on getting some rest and attempting to regain control of his emotions. Since he couldn’t seem to cope with his brothers, he decided to catch up with his female friends. The first person Don called was April. 

“Hey, Don! It’s been a little while since I heard from you,” April greeted, cheerfully. 

“Sorry. I’ve been busy,” Don explained. 

“So, I shouldn’t be offended that you never took me up on my weekly get-together offer?” April half-teased. 

Don searched his memory banks. He vaguely recalled April saying something about that when he first started suffering from abdominal muscle spasms. “Please don’t be offended. With everything else going on, I think that I just kind of forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I forgive you,” April replied. “I’d been meaning to get ahold of you anyway. Angel wanted me to let you know that she’s planning to babysit her niece this weekend. She was wondering if you wanted to join in.”

“Right,” Don recalled. “My infant care lessons. That sounds great. I’ll have to take her up on that.”

“So you’re still feeling unprepared?” April asked. 

Don gulped and rubbed his belly. “To say the least.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering,” April started hesitantly. “Would you like me to throw you a baby shower?”

Don was assailed by a coughing fit that left April feeling rather concerned. “A baby shower?!” he finally managed to gasp. 

“Yes. We could buy you gifts and play some games,” April sputtered. 

“Who is this ‘we?’” Donatello wondered. 

“Angel and I, your brothers, maybe Casey,” April elaborated. 

“Wow. I mean, that’s really nice of you, but I cannot picture that happening,” Don said. “Like… at all.”

April heaved a breath. “I thought you might not go for it, but I still wanted to offer.”

“And, that’s generous of you, really,” Don praised. “Unfortunately, no one around here has really been in much of a celebratory mood. And, even if we were, I cannot picture my brothers playing baby games.”

“It could just be a regular party,” April attempted to entice him. 

“I’m afraid I’m not much fun right now,” Don admitted. “But, I’m really working hard to finish the EDS before the babies are born. Maybe we can have a party when that’s done.”

“And if there are baby gifts…” April said, leadingly. 

Don chuckled. “Who am I to stop you?”

April and Don spoke for a while, and Don was feeling much better when they hung up. He texted Angel and set up a time to meet for babysitting. Angel also requested a tutoring session, and Don was happy to oblige. Don nibbled on a snack and enjoyed feeling the babies move around. 

The night was still young, so Don spent some time working on EDS. After dinner, he called Valeria. 

Valeria picked up the phone. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the very busy turtle who has no time to check in with the office.”

“I’m constantly in the office,” Don defended. “I live in it.”

“I meant the head office,” Valeria clarified. “Me.”

“It has been a while since we spoke,” Don realized. “Hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Valeria agreed. “I haven’t even had a chance to tell you what happened the last time that I went to the hairstylist to have my purple streak covered. It turns out that there’s squid ink in hair dye, and when PETA found out, they blew up the manufacturer’s headquarters.”

Don grinned. “Wow. That’s a good one. Ridiculous, but almost believable.”

“I know, right?” Valeria bubbled. “I’ve been holding it in reserve for a while now.”

“Why do we do this again?” Don wondered. 

“You were worried that Bishop would hire someone to impersonate my voice,” Valeria reminded him. “This was how you would know it’s really me.”

“Well, we can probably stop now,” Don recommended. “I’m sure he’s listening in and has picked up on the pattern by now. We might as well go out with a bang.”

“If you say so,” Valeria replied. “I was running out of ideas anyway. So, what’s new on the EDS front? The build team has been running around like crazy, but they haven’t asked me to do much coding lately.”

“It’s coming along pretty nicely. I’m really hoping to have my part of the work completed by the end of the year,” Don answered. “I’m almost done with the orbiter now.”

“Well, that explains why you have no time for phone calls. Last time we spoke You’d hardly even started that part of it,” Valeria replied. 

“Yup. Like you said, I’m a very busy turtle.”

Don really did enjoy talking to Val. It was nice to have someone who understood his technobabble. It was even nicer that she didn’t know about the babies. She had become a kind of a safe zone for him - a pleasant diversion from the worst of his problems. Funny, he mused after he hung up, that dealing with a potential invasion was easier than dealing with his personal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left a kudos or a comment. I appreciate all of them. Thanks for reading!


	33. Chapter 33

Angel opened the door, and there stood Don, his face concealed as much as possible by the hood of his sweatshirt. 

“Donatello! How are you?! How are the babies?!” Angel bubbled. 

“They’re good,” Donatello replied, purposely avoiding answering the part about himself. “How are you?”

“Just plugging along. Glad you’re here now, Don. Thanks for coming.” Angel ushered the turtle into her apartment and briefly scanned the hall before shutting the door. 

“Happy to be here. I needed an excuse to get out of the Lair for a while,” Don confided. 

“Even if it’s tutoring me in physics and helping to babysit my niece?” Angel wondered. 

“Goodness knows I need the practice,” Donatello admitted. “So, where is she?”

“She’s napping in the other room. Rule number one of being around babies is that you never ever wake them up.”

“Duly noted. So we start with physics and move onto babies, then?” Don proposed. 

An hour later, Angel and Don were immersed in Newton’s third law of motion when a small cry was heard in the next room. Angel gave a sly grin. “Looks like you’re on.”

Donatello gulped. “You’re just going to throw me right into the fire?” 

“You know what they say. We learn best by doing,” Angel lectured. 

“Isn’t she going to freak out when she sees me?” Don worried. 

“She’s only three months old. Your looks won’t phase her. Now quit stalling or she’ll get really mad.”

Don pushed himself to his feet and crept into Angel’s bedroom. He then realized that this was not the time to be using ninja stealth, as he didn’t want to scare the baby. “Um, hold on. We’re coming,” he said in a voice that he hoped sounded calming. Angel recognized the stall tactic and gave his shoulder a gentle shove that did his bad back no favors. 

Don reached the pack and play and smiled gently as he took his first close-up look at a baby. “Hey,” he cooed. “Hi Jasmine, I’m Don.”

Jasmine was unimpressed, and only cried louder. “What? Are you waiting for her to hand you a business card or something? Just pick her up already,” Angel hissed. “How would you like it if it was you crying and your caregiver just stood there and stared?”

Don wished he had a caregiver, even if it was an inept one. “I wasn’t just staring,” he defended. “I was being soothing.”

“Quit stalling and grab that baby!” Angel insisted. “And make sure to support her head.”

Don licked his lips and dove in. He slid his hands beneath Jasmine and supported her head and neck with one strong finger. “This okay?” he asked. When Angel nodded, he pulled the baby up and placed her head on his shoulder. 

He had a harder time trying to maneuver Jasmine’s body into a position that made sense. As usual, his embarrassingly huge belly was giving him trouble. At first, he tried to angle her up and down, but she ended up not having enough room above the large bump in his plastron, so it looked almost like she was riding on top of it. Not only was it uncomfortable for both of them, but Don was afraid that Jasmine would hit her head on the lip of his shell. 

He carefully slid her down to rest horizontally against the top of his plastron, which seemed to work a little better. Don looked up to get Angel’s opinion and noticed that she was trying to suppress laughter. 

“I’m glad you find this funny,” he snapped. Jasmine was still crying, and it was only adding to his anxiety. “I didn’t laugh at you when you didn’t understand physics right away!”

Angel looked chagrined and put a hand on Don’s arm. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was just thinking how surreal this is, that’s all!”

“Well it sure looked like you were laughing to me,” Don complained, suddenly feeling near tears. He hated being like this. 

“Alright. I admit it did look a little funny at first, but you’ve got good instincts,” Angel praised. “Once your own babies are born, you won’t have that ginormous belly to deal with anymore, and this will look and feel a lot more natural.”

Don knew his friend meant well, but it kind of stung. He was so sick of everyone pointing out how big he was. “It’s not ginormous,” he pouted, even though he knew better.

“Whatever you say,” Angel dismissed. 

“So, what's next?” Don asked, trying to get over his mini tantrum. 

Angel had been prepared to coach Don on how to rock a distressed baby, but much to her surprise, he was doing it already - swinging his weight from hip to hip as he gently bounced Jasmine. She was already starting to calm down. 

Angel raised her eyebrows. “Look at you! How did you know how to do that?”

Donatello looked down at himself. “What? This? I don't know. Maybe I saw it on TV or something.”

“It infuriates me that you seem to automatically be good at everything,” Angel huffed. 

“Well, I’m an ugly, mutated freak, my family can’t stand to be around me, and I live in a sewer, so don’t be too jealous. Besides, I honestly have no idea what to do next.”

Angel ignored the portion of Donatello’s response that she could only hope was a tone-deaf attempt at self-deprecating humor. “When a baby is crying, it’s generally one of four things - sleepiness, boredom, diaper, or hunger. It’s best to eliminate those first,” she instructed. 

“She just woke up from a long nap, so… hunger?” Don guessed. 

“Let’s see. You keep doing what you’re doing while I make a bottle.”

Don kept swinging and patting Jasmine’s back. He wondered if his kids would take a bottle, or if feedings would be more complicated. Unfortunately, there was no way to know until they were born. It was yet another thing to stress over. 

When Angel arrived with the bottle, Don carefully sat down, then awkwardly readjusted the baby. Eventually, he found a position that would work for the feeding, and Jasmine eagerly latched onto the bottle. “How do I know if I’m doing it right?” Don asked. 

“You want to make sure that her tongue is rolled around the bottom so that there’s a good seal. To check, you can even pinch her cheek or lip a little and listen for the sound of a vacuum being broken. The other thing to do is just make sure there’s nothing coming out of her mouth. If there is, she’s not latched properly.”

“So this looks good then?” Don checked. 

“Yes,” Angel assured. “Just make sure that her head stays raised above her body, and that she’s not chewing on the bottle. Also, make sure that the tip stays full and isn’t mixing with air.”

Don nodded. “Got it.”

“Jasmine is a pretty good eater, but she’s not really a newborn anymore. Your babies will likely require a bit more work,” Angel guessed. 

“I know. Honestly, I’m not even sure what they’ll be able to eat or drink. Store-bought bottles might not even work for them. It’s good to understand the basics, though.”

Don sat back and tried to get a little more comfortable. Jasmine wiggled her little fingers and placed them near the bottle, somehow managing to grasp one of Don’s calloused hands. 

Don’s eyes widened as he gazed at the small bundle nestled in the crook of his arm. The baby stared back with interest as she continued to suckle. Holding her was so peaceful. It was an almost spiritual experience. Yet again, Don found tears springing to his eyes without warning. 

“What’s wrong?” Angel asked. 

“Nothing. It’s just… look how precious she is. She’s so tiny and fragile and perfect, like a clean slate that the world hasn’t tarnished yet,” Don marveled. 

Angel nodded in agreement. “Yup. That’s a baby for you.”

“And to think, I have three on the way. She feels so breakable, and mine are even smaller. What if I do something wrong? What if I ruin them somehow?” Donatello could feel his chest tightening with a potent mix of emotion and anxiety. 

“That’s not going to happen, Don. You won’t let it,” Angel said, firmly. “Look at everything that you’ve sacrificed for them already.”

“But that doesn’t mean that I’ll be a good dad,” Don fretted. “I… um… can you take her? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Again?!” Angel balked. 

Don handed off the baby and hurried away. He waddled to the bathroom and turned on the water, then bit his wrist to cover the sounds of his panic-wracked breaths and intermittent sobs. He knew that it was a hormone-induced mood swing, but that knowledge didn’t do anything to help him stop it.


	34. Chapter 34

Babysitting Jasmine had been a wonderful learning experience, but it had really emphasized how small and fragile babies were. 

The guys had a good point about the lack of appropriate medical care that was available for mutated turtles on earth. Don knew that even in the best of circumstances, he would be pretty out of it after giving birth. Given that he was the closest thing that the turtles had to a doctor, he felt the need to plan for as many complications as possible in advance - not just for him, but for the babies. 

On one particular day, he didn’t feel well enough to get out of bed. Instead, he spent the day researching pre- and post-natal complications, and what treatments worked best for them. It was awful, seeing all the terrible things that could go wrong. He couldn’t bear to look at some of the pictures. But, he diligently took notes about everything. He began to create lists and decision trees for the others to follow. He also put together some plans for an incubator, in case the babies came early. 

By the end of the day, he was heartbroken and exhausted. He closed his laptop and set it aside, then carefully eased himself down into a more relaxed position. He put both hands on his belly. “I hope that you guys are okay,” he whispered, brokenly. “Please… be okay.” He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. 

Nights were the worst for Donatello. During the days, he was extremely busy. It was easy to ignore the various pains that wracked his body and to push aside the stress that was threatening to tear apart his mind. But nights were another matter. 

It was no secret that Donatello didn’t need much sleep. He was famous for working on his projects late into the night. He couldn’t do that now. His body simply couldn’t take it. He was barely hanging on as it was, and couldn’t risk collapsing from exhaustion, or something worse. So, as much as he strained himself during the day, he did attempt to go to bed at a reasonable hour. 

But, it was when he was all alone and lying idle in the dark that everything caught up to him. His mind began racing - making lists of everything that needed to be done, panicking about everything that could go wrong. When he tried to calm down and clear his mind, it only made the pain that was constantly wracking his body stand out all the more. 

He was getting used to his sore feet and agonized back, the cramping in his legs and aching in his hips and lower belly from carrying too much weight, the itchiness and plastron pain that came with all the stretching. But tonight, he noticed some symptoms that were different - a pounding in his heart, a tight feeling in his chest, difficulty swallowing. He tried to ride it out, to tell himself that it was just exhaustion and anxiety, but it only got worse as the night wore on. 

When the clock blinked 2 AM, Don had finally had enough. He took his pulse, noting that his heart was racing. Grabbing his nightstand for support, he eased himself off of the bed and trudged to his lab. He put on a blood pressure cuff. Too high. He ran a quick ultrasound and saw that the babies were okay, at least. The same couldn’t be said for Donatello. The tightness in his chest was worsening, but there was no way to accurately check his own breathing. He had to get someone, and he decided on Leo. 

Don carefully pulled on some clothes. He always wore them around his brothers now, just for the sake of hiding himself. But, they were just as uncomfortable as ever, if not more so. Don still slept in the nude. When he was dressed, he tapped lightly on Leo’s door. 

“Come on in,” Leonardo responded. 

“You were awake?” Don whispered. 

“What? You think you’re the only one who suffers through sleepless nights?” Leo grumbled. 

“No.. Sorry… I,” Don stood in the doorway stammering. 

Leonardo sighed. “Sorry. I’m just grouchy because I can’t fall asleep. So, what’s going on?”

Don approached the foot of Leo’s bed, suppressing the surprisingly powerful desire to sneak in under the covers like when they were kids. “I can’t sleep either, and I’m starting to notice some worrisome symptoms.”

Leonardo sat up in bed. “Like what? What symptoms?”

“My heart is racing, and my blood pressure is elevated. There’s too much pressure in my chest. Having a hard time catching my breath.”

Leonardo rubbed his eyes. “Crud. Tell me what you need me to do.”

Don handed Leo a stethoscope. “Listen to my breathing.”

Leonardo looked at the tool in his hands, then back to his brother. “Listen for what?”

“A crackling sound,” Don answered. “If there’s fluid in my lungs, it could be a sign of pulmonary edema.”

Leonardo’s eyes widened. “What’s that?” 

“Fluid in the lungs, but it can be a sign of heart failure, and given my other symptoms…”

“Crap, Donatello. We told you that this was too much of a strain on your body.” Leonardo practically hammered the stethoscope against Don’s chest. Don pulled his shirt down so that Leo could listen through the neck hole and took deep breaths. Over the course of the next few minutes, Leo’s face went from furiously frantic to calm and thoughtful. “I don’t hear anything weird,” he finally said. “What did you say your symptoms were again?”

“High blood pressure, racing heart, tightness in the chest, trouble breathing,” Don listed. 

Leonardo smiled sadly. “You’re having an anxiety attack, Don.”

Don opened his mouth to argue, then realized that he couldn’t. “Are you sure?” he asked. 

“No, but unfortunately, I’m familiar enough with them to be fairly confident in my diagnosis.”

“How do I stop it?” Don asked with pleading eyes. 

“I’d tell you to try and relax, but that almost never works. Come on, we’ll have a cup of tea and see if we can ride this out.”

Don followed Leo to the kitchen and groaned as he took his seat. Leonardo couldn’t tell if it was a groan of relief, or of distress. He just gave his pregnant brother a weak smile and began filling the kettle with water. 

Don wiggled around in his chair. “I can’t believe that I’m five months along,” he moaned. While there was always going to be uncertainty about his due date, by any measure, he had to be more than halfway through by now. 

Leonardo looked over his shoulder. “Feels like less, or feels like more?”

“On the one hand, it feels like they’ll be here way too soon.” Don grimaced and arched his back, then rested a hand on his very large belly. “On the other hand, it feels like I’m about a million months pregnant.”

Leonardo chuckled. “You look about a million months pregnant.”

“Hey,” Don griped. “Teasing me is not a good way to get me to calm down.”

“You said it first,” Leonardo pointed out. “Kind of,” he added when he saw the hurt look on Don’s face. 

Don continued to pout. He knew he wasn’t really all that big, considering that it was triplets. His brothers just weren’t used to being around pregnant people. 

“Fine, I’m sorry. Would a snack help you to feel better?” Leonardo relented. 

“Yes,” Don grumbled. He was still irritated, but it was exceedingly rare for anyone to make him a snack. The offer was too good to turn down. 

Leonardo rooted through the cabinets, which seemed to be permanently bare. By now, all of the brothers had hidden food stashes of their own, but Leo couldn’t break into his in front of Don. He didn’t think Don would steal from him, he was just afraid of hurting Don’s feelings. Leonardo opened the fridge and was pleased to see that there was still some leftover pizza. 

“Late night cold pizza?” Leonardo tempted. 

Don smiled. “How could I say no?”

Don just let the pizza sit and quietly sipped the tea that Leonardo had made for him. “Aren’t you going to eat it?” Leo finally asked. 

“My stomach is in knots,” Don explained. 

“Just take some deep breaths,” Leonardo urged. 

“I don’t know why you’re so sure that this is just a panic attack,” Don muttered. “It’s not like I’ve had them before.”

“I told you that I’m not sure. It just seems like what I’ve experienced in the past,” Leonardo reiterated. “Unless you really think that this is something dire, we might as well just just work under the assumption that I’m right. If the symptoms persist, we can go to plan B.”

“Which is what?” Don asked. 

“Consulting April,” Leonardo answered. “Unless you have other ideas.” Don had been so insistent that he could handle his own medical care, and that he was planning for every contingency. Leonardo was a little irked that the family genius seemed so clueless now that he was actually being tested, but he tried not to let it show. It appeared to be another symptom of panic that Don wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Don continued taking deep breaths. “You’re okay,” Leo encouraged. “You are.”

“I’m not,” Don moaned. “I’m under so much stress, and my body…” Don arched his back again and rubbed his sides as if to emphasize his point. “I’m under so much strain, Leo. I feel like I can’t take much more, nevermind several more months.”

Watching Don, Leo now knew for sure that this was anxiety. He also knew better than to say ‘I told you so.’ “You’re okay,” Leo repeated soothingly. “Maybe we haven’t said it enough, but you’ve been doing a great job for those babies. I know it’s hard on you.”

“Haven’t said it enough?!” Don balked. “You haven’t said it at all!”

Leonardo frowned. He did think that Donnie was doing a wonderful job. He could have sworn that he had been saying it all along, but now he couldn't think of a single instance where he had given voice to his pride in his brother. “Well, I’m saying it now. You’re doing great, and it will be okay.”

Leo never did give Don that hug that he had been yearning for, but he did rub his arm, which was almost as good. Don took a few more shaky breaths, then found that some of his symptoms were dissipating. The ordeal left him exhausted. Leonardo saw him off to bed and made an empty promise that things would look better in the morning.


	35. Chapter 35

After his panic attack, and receiving some comfort from Leonardo, Donatello had gotten rather clingy. He still worked day and night on the EDS, but he no longer wanted to be left behind at the Lair during patrol. The Purple Dragons were still causing trouble all over the City, so Leo couldn’t just stay home all day in the hopes that Don would too. So, as much as it stunk, all four turtles were back on the streets. 

“You okay?” Raphael asked Don, who had been lagging behind all night. 

Everything was hurting. Don wanted to complain, but he didn’t dare. He knew that they would be forced to go home if he did. “I’m fine. Nice to be getting some fresh air and exercise.”

Raphael was not convinced. 

Someone screamed, and the brothers set off at a run. Leonardo arrived first and saw two men rolling around on the sidewalk. He didn’t intervene right away, for fear of being recognized as a mutant. He gestured for his brothers to hang back in an alley while he figured out what was going on. 

Don banged his shell into a wall and rubbed his belly with both hands as he panted. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Michelangelo asked. 

“Yeah. You really don’t look like you should be out here, bro,” Raphael agreed. 

“I’m fine,” Don puffed. “They’re just...moving a lot.” Don white-knuckled his middle and doubled over. “Oh!” he gasped. 

“What?!” Raphael snapped. “What?! I can’t take this!”

“Someone kicked me where it hurt,” Don tried to explain. 

Leonardo returned to the group. “Attempted carjacking. The police are on the way. We’d better scramble.”

“You good to go?” Michelangelo asked Don. 

Don nodded and set off at a jog to prove his point. He had no particular destination. The turtles hadn’t taken the van today. It was just a foot patrol. 

Don stopped and leaned hard against another wall. “Where to, Leo?” he asked. 

“Maybe we should get you home, Don,” Leonardo answered. “We’ve had a productive night already.”

Don was hesitant to reply. Home sounded amazing, but he hated to be the reason that they called it a night early. He knew his brothers didn’t really enjoy having him along for patrol, and they’d only been out for a couple of hours. Aside from preventing a robbery and breaking up a bar fight, they hadn’t really seen much action. 

Don had not yet responded when Raphael spoke up. “What’s going on over there?” he wondered. Raphael always did have a nose for trouble.

Leonardo looked a few rooftops over, to where Raphael was pointing. “Isn’t that one of Hun’s men?” Leonardo asked. 

Don reluctantly pushed off of the wall and limped over. He put on his binoculars. “It is,” Don confirmed. “It’s one of the guys who was in the apartment that we broke into.”

“Who’s with him?” Leonardo asked. 

“Don’t nnn-know,” Don grimaced, grabbing his stomach again. 

Leonardo looked at his brother with concern. “I doubt it’s urgent. Let’s just head in.”

“It’s okay,” Don said with closed eyes. “You guys can stay out and keep an eye on things here. I’ll go home.”

Don handed the binoculars to a doubtful looking Leonardo. 

“I’ll go back with Don,” Michelangelo volunteered. “I’ve got some new comics that I’ve been dying to tear into.”

“Um. Okay,” Leonardo decided. “Give us a call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a good sign that Don pulled out his bo staff to help him walk when he’d been running around mere minutes ago. 

Leonardo waited until they were out of sight. “I wish that I knew what I was doing,” he confessed to Raphael. 

Raphael laughed. “I wish that you knew what you were doing too!” The two exchanged a rare smile. 

Meanwhile, Michelangelo and Donatello meandered through back alleys for a few blocks, working their way towards home. Mikey was troubled that Don was moving slower and slower, and also grabbing at his back and his belly with increasing frequency. Mikey stopped at the nearest manhole. He looked at it, and then back at Don. “We might, uh, need a bigger one,” he worried. 

Don frowned. He was pretty sure that he could squeeze through, but it would be a disaster if he got stuck halfway. Given his current condition, he doubted that he’d be able to wriggle himself free. “Better safe than sorry. Let’s just find another.”

Michelangelo nodded and peeked around the corner of the building. They would have to cross the street. When the coast was clear, the two brothers hustled. They had no sooner made it across the street and into the next alley when a side door opened and two inebriated Purple Dragons stumbled out. They were laughing and holding fistfuls of cash. 

Knowing that Don was in no shape for a fight, Michelangelo pushed his brother back into the shadows. Don bit his lip to suppress a cry and grabbed his middle again. These sudden shifts in momentum were very painful. 

The turtles were just about to sneak around the corner when they heard screaming. “Give me back my money or I’m calling the cops!”

“And reveal your illegal gambling operation?” someone else yelled. “Why don’t you go ahead and do that?”

“Those are my winnings!” the first voice cried. 

“Just let them go,” another voice begged. “They’re armed and you aren’t.”

This made the turtles stand stock still. This was a busy part of town. People were pouring in and out of nearby restaurants and shops. They couldn’t let any innocent bystanders in the street get hurt on their watch.

“I can’t let them go,” the first voice yelled. “This is my place and I have a reputation to uphold. If I let these apes steal from me, everybody will.”

“And just cause he ain’t armed don’t mean I ain’t,” a new voice spoke up. The turtles keen hearing picked up on the sound of a gun being cocked. 

Don and Mikey nodded at each other before sneaking back the way they came. All it would take was a few well-aimed shurikens to disable any guns that were present. The turtles returned to the barside alley and stayed hidden in the shadows. 

They would have to do this all at once, in order to avoid giving away their location and being spotted by the humans. There were a half dozen men involved in the argument and four of them had guns. Donatello pointed to the two he wanted, and Michelangelo acknowledged him by slinking into a better position to hit the other two.

He Iocked eyes with Don and nodded. The two of them began a synchronized mental countdown… five, four, three, two, one!

They both hurled their shuriken as hard as they could towards the guns. All four hit their marks. The turtles had no way of knowing this, as they couldn’t wait around to see the aftermath. They immediately began running as fast as they could for the nearest manhole. 

Fortunately, they were not followed, as the gamblers didn’t know what had hit them. Unfortunately, Don had felt an awful pulling in his belly when he threw the two shurikens, and it had tightened all the way to his back. It had only gotten worse as he ran, but he knew better than to stop. 

Michelangelo worked the manhole cover as fast as he could, but he stopped when Donatello dropped to his knees beside him, clearly in agony. “M-Mikey. Oh, something’s wrong!”

Michelangelo almost dropped the manhole cover, but he had to get Don into the sewers where they would be hidden. He flung it aside, grabbed Don and half carried him down. He set the panting genius down in the muck. “I’ve gotta put the lid back on or they might figure out where we went,” Mikey realized. 

Don’s eyes were squeezed shut but he nodded. Michelangelo made fast work of climbing up and putting the cover back on. He went back to his brother and found him doubled over in pain. Mikey put a hand on Don’s heaving shell. “What’s wrong, bro? Tell me where it hurts.”

“My stomach, a-and my back,” Donatello gasped. ”It’s tugging. I’m afraid...a-fraid these are contractions.”

“What do we do?” Michelangelo asked. 

“A-pril, call April,” Don panted. 

Mikey nodded and pulled out his phone. He knew that he should call Leonardo, but Don shouldn’t walk right now. April could get here faster, given that Leo would have to go back home to fetch a vehicle before picking up Don. That and April would have a better idea of what to do. 

It took April and Casey less than ten minutes to arrive and park beside the manhole. They jumped into the sewer, not even bothering with the ladder. 

“Don!” April gasped as she saw where he was huddled. 

“I think I’m having contractions,” he moaned. “It’s too soon!”

April looked to Casey. “Let’s get him to our place,” she ordered. 

“Shouldn’t we get him home?” Michelangelo asked. “That’s where all the medical stuff is.”

“How’re we gonna get our car into the sewers to drive him there, dumb-dumb?” Casey jeered. 

April almost pointed out that they could have driven up close to the Lair and moved Don into the sewers, but it didn’t seem worth discussing. Don was clearly agitated, and at this point, she just wanted to get him comfortable as quickly as possible. Her place was closer. “I don’t think that we need any medical equipment yet,” April said calmly. “Can you walk, Don?”

Donatello nodded and carefully got to his feet. He was between spasms at the moment. Everyone piled into the van and made the quick trip to April’s place. Don had another contraction while climbing out of the van and up the stairs. April helped him onto the sofa and encouraged him to breathe through the pain.

“We’ve got to make this stop,” Don cried. 

“Are you sure?” Michelangelo asked. “Maybe it’s time?” Mikey didn’t know that much about pregnancy, but Donatello sure looked big enough to him. 

“I’m only five months along!” Don moaned. “They won’t be able to survive if they’re born now.”

“But do you know that for sure?” Michelangelo asked. “They’re part turtle, and they’re mutants. Maybe they don’t need the full nine months?”

“Their lungs aren’t developed enough. They won’t be able to breathe if they’re born now!” Don huffed. 

“Maybe it’s eggs after all?” Mikey considered. “So maybe they don’t have to breathe quite yet?”

“It’s not eggs!” Don hollered. “Did you see any eggshells on the ultrasound?”

“Noooo,” Michelangelo mouthed. “But maybe-“

“But nothing! We need to stop this or they’ll die! Will you please stop being so stupid!” Don put both hands on his belly and doubled over. 

Mikey tried not to be offended. 

April came over with a glass of water. “Another one?” she asked. 

Don was in too much pain to answer. 

“I think so,” Michelangelo said. 

April put her hand on Don’s belly. It was tough to tell through his protective clothing and his plastron, but it did feel like it was tensing. She rubbed his back until he relaxed a little, then she handed him the glass of water. “Drink this.”

Don swallowed about half the glass. “Have you been drinking enough?” April asked. “Dehydration can cause cramping and contractions.”

Don searched his mind. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “Drinking too much gives me heartburn. Maybe I haven’t had much lately.”

“Finish the glass,” April said, levelly. “Then another.”

Don didn’t dare argue. He drank both glasses, then April helped him out of his armored vest, in the hopes that it would make him more comfortable. “Do you need some food?” April asked. 

Don shrugged. 

“I don’t think so,” Michelangelo answered for him. “He ate something before patrol.”

“You need to just lie down and try to relax,” April ordered. She pulled down the purple mask around Don’s eyes to reveal worryingly dark circles. It made her feel more irritated than sympathetic. “When is the last time that you slept?” she glowered. 

“I try, but it’s so hard right now,” Don weakly defended. “I can't ever get comfortable.”

April threw her hands up. “So rather than trying harder you decide to galavant around the city?”

Rather than defend his actions, Don looked at her with big brown puppy dog eyes. The anger flowed out of April. Leonardo had told her about the panic attack, so she could only assume that had something to do with his exhaustion and inability to be alone. 

April sighed. “Oh, Don. You’re smart enough to know that something like this was bound to happen if you didn’t take proper care of yourself.”

Don stretched out on the sofa while April gathered some pillows and blankets. She came back to the sofa and found him on his back, clutching his belly. “Another one?” she asked. 

Don nodded. April placed a hand on his stomach. Now that his vest was off, it was easier to feel the muscles tensing. These were definitely contractions, but the timing was irregular. It was nothing to worry about, yet. 

“You seem to get them when you move,” April noticed. “I think these are probably just Braxton Hicks, not true pre-term labor.”

“Braxton Hicks aren’t supposed to hurt so much,” Don whined. 

April rubbed his midsection while he rode out the latest wave of pain. “Maybe not so much for human women, but it might be different for you,” she guessed. “When you’re ready, roll onto your side and try to sleep a little.”

Don complied and closed his eyes. “Did you call Leo?” he sleepily asked Michelangelo. 

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “I told him that April was taking good care of you.”

“Thanks,” Don muttered, closing his eyes again and pulling the blanket closer. “Sorry that I yelled at you.”

“And called me stupid?” Michelangelo added. 

Don opened one eye. “Did I?”

“Kind of,” Mikey replied. 

“Sorry.” Don yawned. “Didn’t mean to. You’re not stupid.”

April gave Michelangelo a shove. “Sit near your brother,” she hissed. 

Mikey moved the coffee table and sat on the floor near Don’s head. “I forgive you,” he whispered. “Get some rest.”

Don immediately let himself drift off. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. 

Leonardo and Raphael showed up half an hour later. Don was fast asleep, and Michelangelo was still sitting near him on the floor. “He’s okay,” Mikey explained. “False alarm.”

Leonardo heaved a sigh of relief, but his demeanor was firm. “I’m putting my foot down. Don’s through with patrol until after the babies are born.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” April agreed. “Why don’t you just leave him here tonight. He’s completely exhausted.”

Casey reappeared from his hiding spot. He’d essentially disappeared after they had gotten home, and it was obvious that Don was out of the woods. The whole thing gave him the creeps, and he was only underfoot anyway. “So what were Hun’s men up to?” he asked. 

Leonardo shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Don’t know. Hun must still be out of commission because they don’t seem to have any real sense of direction right now.”

“Then what were they doing on a roof, of all places?” April asked. 

“I kind of got the impression that they were looking for us,” Raphael said. He then laughed mischievously. “Sure as heck didn’t find us, though.”


	36. Chapter 36

Don was relieved to wake up the next morning, still pregnant but feeling much better. He’d slept sounder than he had in months. His brothers had spent the night at April and Casey’s too, and Don couldn’t help but wonder if having them nearby had benefited his slumber. 

They had a nice breakfast. April did an exam, and then the turtles went back to the sewer. Don was really thirsty all day and conceded that he had been dehydrated and worn out. He agreed that it would be best if he stopped patrolling. 

In the afternoon, April came over and they ran a more thorough exam and an ultrasound. Don hadn’t had any more contractions, and the babies were all healthy and very active. They were growing fast now, and judging by how their kicks felt, they were nice and strong already. Just to be on the safe side, Don spent the remainder of the day and night with electrodes taped to his belly to constantly monitor the babies. They were okay, and he was too. 

Don spent a couple of weeks on very light duty. He stepped down his training even further. He went for jogs instead of runs, and he reduced the weight around his wrists and ankles when he exercised. He limited himself to four hours a day working on his feet in the lab or garage. He spent the rest of his time resting, working on his computer, or on the IT support line. 

He finally found time to start building the cribs, which was important to him. It was a labor of love, and he didn’t want anything store-bought or repurposed. The work proved interesting because the babies were moving a lot now. Don almost felt like they were attempting to help out or offer input. He used his savings from his IT work to purchase new bedding.

Michelangelo helped him pick out the soft goods. They were all gender-neutral, with different animal patterns. One baby was getting frogs, one was getting ducklings, and one was getting birds. It was all stuff that a turtle could expect to encounter in the wild. Don was shy about admitting it, but he really loved his nursery theme. He was sure that his babies would too. He sometimes liked to sit on his bed and stare at his works in progress and daydream. But, he always made sure to lock the door before doing so. 

oOo

Between the stolen property and the broken jaw, Hun was extremely angry. Now that he was out of the hospital and adequately recovered from surgery, he was dead set on getting revenge. He planned to get a hold of the turtles by any means necessary and rip them out of those ugly shells of theirs. 

He’d had his Purple Dragons searching the city. Problem was, even though the other three kept turning up, that clever, fat, purple one was nowhere to be found, and that was the one that Hun wanted most of all - the one who’d stolen his stuff then taken him down with a lucky hit. 

The ugly SOBs hadn’t even noticed the tracking device that one of his underlings had stuck to the bottom of their customized vehicle. 

oOo

Donatello had reached month six and was feeling absolutely huge. Moving around was increasingly difficult, and the weight of the babies pressing against his nerves had resulted in a few scary episodes of leg numbness. His back had been getting worse and worse and was becoming prone to locking up. 

He was resting on the sofa and texting Valeria when his brothers came back from patrol and grocery shopping. 

Don slowly got to his feet to greet them and help put the groceries away. The movement caused the babies to wake up, and one of them kicked him hard in the ribs. “That hurt,” he muttered under his breath. 

Raphael turned to him. “What?”

Don blushed. “Nothing. Oh, you got ice cream!” 

Michelangelo smiled. “Coffee flavored, just for you.”

Don got three bowls down from the cupboard and scooped ice cream into each of them. He then took the carton and waddled over to the kitchen table with it. 

“I bent one of my swords,” Leonardo complained. “I’m going to go fire up the furnace. Be right back.”

The furnace was in the garage. Leonardo got it going, then went back to the main Lair to share a snack with his brothers. They chatted for a while, and at one point, one of Don’s babies kicked out hard enough to make contact with the table. There was an audible thump. 

Michelangelo cringed. “Didn’t that hurt?”

Don shrugged. “They liked the ice cream.”

Leonardo chuckled. “Or maybe they were reminding me that the furnace should be ready.” He got up and went back to the garage. Raphael followed him. He’d had enough of sitting, and was always attracted to weapons and fire. 

The two were discussing the best way to repair the sword when Leonardo suddenly hushed Raphael. 

“Rude!” Raphael snapped. 

“Quiet!” Leonardo hissed, dropping low. Raphael followed his lead. 

Donatello had designed a false wall that separated the garage from the sewers. There were voices coming from the other side. “The signal is coming from right here. I’m telling you!” a muffled voice claimed. 

“There’s nothing here. The signal must be coming from the streets above,” another voice argued. 

“We already checked that. Besides, I’ve seen those freaks jumping down manholes.”

“Yeah, and I’ve seen the tooth fairy.”

Whoever was on the other side of the garage started banging on the false wall. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing here. Maybe the tracker fell off and drifted down the storm drain.”

“Find it, then, so we can report back to Hun.” 

Leonardo and Raphael heard water sloshing around. “Go! Go!” Leonardo hissed. They hurried back to the main Lair. 

“Guys, we’ve got a situation,” Leonardo told Donatello and Michelangelo, who were still sitting around the table. 

“Hun’s crew must have planted a tracking device on the Battle Shell. There are at least two of his men right outside the garage!” Raphael said. 

“What?!” Don gasped. He dropped his spoon and hurried as best he could to the security console, where he collapsed into his chair. He fired up the hidden camera mounted on the exterior of the garage door. Sure enough, there were two thugs prowling around. Don turned on the audio. At the moment, they were just chatting about last night's street hockey game. 

“Shouldn’t an alarm be going off?” Leonardo asked. 

“Texts only at this point. The siren only goes off if they attempt to break through the wall.” Don hit a button. “Except that I just silenced it.”

Leonardo looked at his phone, which had been left on silent since the beginning of patrol. Sure enough, there was a perimeter proximity warning text message from Don’s security system. All the turtles had received them, but they had all gone unnoticed. Don had left his phone on the sofa after texting Valeria. Raphael’s was on silent as well, and Mikey’s was recharging in his room. 

“How did no one notice this? Were we all sleeping at the wheel?” Leonardo chastised. 

Don glared at him. “Will you relax? The situation is not critical!”

Leonardo’s eyes widened. “Don’t you tell me to relax! The safety of this family is my responsibility. If the safety of our home is compromised, I don’t know what we’ll do!”

“What we always do,” Mikey said bitterly. “Find a new home.”

Raphael shared Leo’s sense of urgency. “How are we supposed to do that with Donatello as far along as he is? All the medical equipment and baby stuff are here.”

“We’re not going to lose our home,” Don assured. “I can throw them off our trail.”

Leonardo took a deep breath to gather himself. “What’s your plan?”

“We remove the tracker from the Battle Shell, but leave it active and send them on a wild goose chase.” Don put a hand over his belly and winced as he bent over to open one of his lower desk drawers. He pulled out a small device. “We’ll just attach it to my mini-drone, here.”

“Aren’t they going to notice a drone flying through the sewers?” Raphael wondered. 

“I can send it straight up through the garage ventilation system,” Don told them. “It will come out on the street above.”

“I heard them saying they already checked the street,” Raphael said. “They know that the Battle Shell was never there.”

“So?” Mikey asked. “They know we’re crafty. They’ll probably just assume that we found the tracker and put it on some other vehicle.”

“The longer the tracker just sits there, the more suspicious this looks,” Leonardo realized. “Give me the drone, Don. I’ll go remove the tracker and tie it to the drone. I’ll let you know when it’s done, and you can fly it out of here.”

Don made a move to get up. “I’ll come too.”

Leonardo snapped his head around. “No! I want you as far from those guys as possible. Just stay here and monitor everything. Give me a call if there’s trouble.”

“Okay,” Don agreed, sinking deeper into the chair. He pushed a button on the drone, and a compartment opened. “Put the tracker in there. I can open it again by remote later.”

Leonardo hustled to the garage. Raphael was hot on his heels since he knew the Battle Shell upside down and sideways by this point. The two worked quietly, knowing that enemies were nearby. 

It was Raphael who found the tracker, sticking to the underside of one of the rear wheel wells. He pulled it off and showed it to Leonardo, who placed it into the drone. 

It was Leo and Raph’s instinct to hurry back to Don, but they both knew better. It would be dangerous to take the tracker deeper into their home. Raphael sent a text to Don, who flew the drone almost directly up into the vent. There was one conveniently placed above the Battle Shell, to prevent carbon monoxide poisoning if the vehicle had to be left running in the confined space of the garage. 

Leonardo and Raphael could hear Hun’s men getting upset. “It’s moving again. I told you it wasn’t in the damn sewer!”

“Well, it wasn’t in the alley either!”

“Not anymore it ain’t! It’s headed northeast. This sewer tunnel doesn’t bend that way, so it’s gotta be on the street.”

Leonardo heaved a sigh of relief as two voices retreated. Still, this had been far too close of a call. Leonardo and Raphael headed back to the Lair and watched Don expertly pilot the mini-drone through the vents and down the street. “I’m going to follow the surface streets for a few miles, then I’ll drop the tracker into a river,” he said over his shoulder. 

While Don was busy doing that, Leonardo watched the two goons until they disappeared from the perimeter cameras, obviously having taken the bait. Don stopped the drone at red lights so that it would appear that it was attached to a vehicle. He was meticulous about his work, dropping the tracker about a half an hour later, then piloting his toy back to the Lair. 

When he was finally done, Don swiveled his desk chair around, put his hands behind his head, and leaned back. “See that? Piece of cake.”

Leo had been nervously hovering nearby this whole time. “Piece of cake?!” He hissed. “Don, this was a disaster!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter picks up immediately where this one leaves off. Thanks for reading.


	37. Chapter 37

Don put his hands down. “What are you talking about?” 

“Those guys were right outside our door!” Leonardo waved his phone in the air. He had already checked to see when the alarm system had first sent out a text. “Nobody noticed for over fifteen minutes!”

Michelangelo had been watching TV with Raphael, but he crossed the room to stand next to Leonardo. “Calm down, Leo. It’s not as if they got in or anything.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Leonardo yelled. It was a wonder that he had even heard Michelangelo speaking over the sound of his thundering heart. “For all we know, they’re coming right back. I heard one of them say that he knows we live in the sewer, and this is a point of interest to them now!”

Raphael turned off the TV and joined his family. “They didn’t seem to notice that it was a fake wall.”

Don nodded his thanks to Raph. “Even if they did, it’s only the garage. I installed another false wall between there and the Lair that can drop down in emergencies. If someone broke into the garage, they wouldn’t know that the Lair was here.”

“They’d figure it out,” Leonardo grumbled. “They always do.”

“But we would have time to escape,” Michelangelo pointed out. 

“Perhaps,” Leonardo conceded. “But we’ve lost a lot of homes over the years. This doesn’t bode well. And, they obviously know what the Battle Shell looks like.”

“I can change it,” Don offered. “Raph and I can reconfigure the exterior, then Mikey can repaint it. They’ll never know that it’s the same vehicle.”

Leonardo crossed his arms. “We’ll just add that to your to-do list, then.”

“What?” Don said, sensing sarcasm. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” Leonardo snapped. “You think that you can handle anything...until you can’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Don shot back. 

“You’re overextended, Donatello, and you’re too far along to be taking new projects on.” Leonardo swung around. “And now we have to worry about finding a new home.”

“No we don’t,” Don scoffed. “This was nothing.”

“Babies!” Leonardo hollered, loud enough to shock everyone, and even make the triplets react. Don could feel them lurch within him. He put his hands on either side of his belly as if attempting to cover their ears. 

“We-“ Leonardo quickly cut himself off. “You’re having babies! What about their safety?! They won’t be able to run away like we can. And I know we’re not supposed to say anything, but you’re getting too big to run away yourself!”

“I’m fine!” Don defended. “I can still run. Situations like this are exactly why I spend so much time trying to keep in shape, despite the rest of you trying to convince me to take it easy.”

“Oh, you are not fine, Donatello,” Leonardo choked out. His voice took on a low, warning tone. “That’s why you panic at night. That’s why you went into false labor.”

“I’m okay,” Don attempted to soothe. “That was nothing.”

“It was not nothing!” Leonardo yelled. “This was not nothing! Stop saying that it is! None of this is working, Donatello, and if you’d bothered to ask anyone else how they were doing, you’d know that!”

Don blinked in confusion. “What?”

Just like that, Leonardo couldn’t hold back anymore. There was so much that he had been wanting to say, but he had held it inside for fear of hurting Don. Suddenly, he couldn’t keep it cooped up within him anymore. It occurred to him that he hadn’t ever been protecting Donatello to begin with. He’d only been giving him a false sense of security, and it wasn’t fair to any of them. “This won’t work. We can’t have babies here, Donatello. We’ll never be able to keep them safe. Shell, we can’t even keep ourselves safe!”

“We are safe,” Don insisted. “Those guys are gone. It’s fine.”

“Again!” Leonardo shouted. “Nothing about this is fine! Those guys will come back. If not them, it’ll be their friends, or Hun, or the Foot, or Baxter Stockman, or the Triceraton.” Leonardo pointed at Don’s belly almost menacingly, “Or, Bishop will come for them.”

Don leaned back in fear. “No, he won’t. I’m blackmailing him, remember?”

“That’s no guarantee,” Leonardo claimed. “Nothing is.”

Don kept his voice level, once more attempting to calm his brother. “That’s true.”

Leonardo deflated. “I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, Don. Not our own, not yours, and especially not the babies. It’s unfair of you to expect me to.”

“I never asked you to,” Don pointed out. “Where is all this coming from, Leo?”

“You may not have asked me to, but I’m your clan leader, or at least I thought that I was supposed to be,” Leonardo replied. “And that makes me responsible for the safety of everyone in this clan, including the unborn.”

“Okaaay,” Don said, unsure where this was going. 

“But I can’t keep you safe, particularly when you don’t listen to a darn word I have to say,” Leonardo snapped. 

“How am I not listening?” Don asked. 

“You didn’t listen when I told you not to leave the Lair unaccompanied, which led to you being abducted and impregnated, to begin with. You didn’t listen when I begged you to come home afterward. You didn’t listen when I told you that you were training too hard. You didn’t listen when I asked you to keep an open mind about the healer.”

Don wanted to argue about some of that, but Leonardo was ranting again, and Don was scared to interrupt. Leonardo’s voice began to slow on its own, right before it broke entirely. “You didn’t listen the other night when I told you… told you that I have sleepless nights too… I panic too… And, aside from that one conversation, you never asked what I thought was best for the babies. Because, if you had cared to ask… if you had listened to anything I had to say… you would have heard that… I don’t think this is right. It’s not right for them, or us, to live like this. It’s no life for anyone, living in fear all the time.”

“Are you serious?” Don balked. “Are you really telling me that this isn’t going to work?” After all the talks they’d had, Don truly thought that this matter had been laid to rest.

Leonardo frowned then nodded. “Yes. If you really love them, you should want better for them. I know that I do. Do you really think that we’re equipped to be parents, Don? To raise kids here? We’re barely holding it together as it is.”

Michelangelo and Raphael had long since been shocked into silence. Don looked to them, his hands still wrapped around his swollen midsection. They offered him no help.

“It's not as though I went looking for this!” Don hissed. “But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t love them. I do love them! I love them too much to leave them. I couldn’t bear to live the rest of my life knowing that they’re out there somewhere without me. Whether I wanted this or not, they're a part of me now. A part of all of us! They belong here with us. It’s so simple, Leo. Why can't you see that?!”

“Why can’t you see that loving something sometimes means letting it go?” Leonardo asked. “It seems to me that you can never stand to do that. You can’t give up training, or your lab, or any semblance of our lives before all of this. But, you’ve lost sight of all the stuff that you’ll be losing by choosing to stay here. And, you’re not considering everything that you will be forcing the babies to give up along with you, never mind the rest of us. What you’re trying to do - it’s so selfish, Don.”

“But we’ve seen the future here, Leo - Bishop’s future, where we could walk free,” Don reminded him. “It was practically a utopia. We know it’s coming.”

“That was 2105,” Leo countered. “We don’t know when everything changes, or if we’ll even make it that far. For all we know, it might never even come at all.” The turtles had learned that time travel was tricky like that. 

Don threw Leo’s previous words back at him. “As you said, there are no guarantees anywhere else that we might go.”

“Is Bishop anywhere else?” Leonardo asked. “Or Hun?”

“No,” Don admitted. 

“Are we being hunted anywhere else?” Leonardo continued. 

“Not that I know of,” Don considered, although he was certain that he wouldn’t be welcome on the Triceraton homeworld. 

“Aren’t there plenty of places where the babies could be raised as normal kids?” Leonardo asked. “Places where they would be safer?”

“I’m sure there are,” Don conceded. 

Leonardo threw his hands up. “I just don’t get it. You say you love those babies, and you admit that they aren’t as safe here as they would be pretty much anywhere else. Yet you insist on raising them here? In a sewer, on a planet where an alien invasion appears to be imminent, where our enemies know exactly where to find us, and a madman could show up at our doorstep at any time?”

By now, Donatello was barely holding himself together. “This...this is our home, Leo. Are you saying that we should leave? Now? I’m six months pregnant!”

“I’m not saying that we should leave,” Leo replied. “I’m asking you why you feel compelled to stay. Surely you see how foolish it is? You say you’ll do anything to protect the babies, but you won’t take them somewhere that you yourself admit would be better for them.”

Don took umbrage with this. “I did not say it would be better for them.”

Leonardo shook his head almost violently. “Yes, you did.”

“I said it would be safer,” Don clarified. 

Leonardo laughed bitterly. “Safer is better.”

“No. Not always,” Don whimpered. “Our lives have never really been safe, but we were so happy as kids. They could be too, Leo. They just need stability, the love of their family.”

“They could still have you, Donatello. You don’t have to leave them if you don’t want to.” Leonardo sighed. “And you do seem intent on staying with them.”

“Wait a minute,” Don begged. “Just me?” It hit Don like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t a rehash of that same conversation anymore. It was a new one entirely. “You don’t want me to give them up. You’re telling me to go too, aren’t you, Leo?”

Leo thought frantically and hard - so hard that he didn’t even notice that instinct had taken over and that he was already nodding his head. “Yes,” he affirmed, surprising even himself with how resolute it sounded. But, deep down, Leo knew it was the truth. Earth, and the Lair, in particular, was just about the worst place in the universe for Don right now. 

Don’s heart broke. He didn't understand how this night had gone so wrong. Hadn’t they just been chatting over ice cream? “B-but I need you guys too. Are you saying that you wouldn’t come with me? Because I… I don’t think that I can do this on my own.”

Despite Don’s distress, Leonardo soldiered on. All he could think about was Don’s panic attack and his labor scare. Those incidents had made Leonardo realize just how fragile all this was. Behind closed doors, he and Raphael had been arguing almost every night. Leonardo now realized that Raph had been right all along. This pregnancy was killing Don, and they were all just ignoring it. In fact, it seemed to Leo that they’d been making it worse, continually piling more and more stress on top of someone that was already damn close to buckling under all of it. Asking one physically deteriorating mutant to take on the responsibility of protecting an entire planet while simultaneously figuring out how to doctor himself and prepare to be a father - something that never could have been expected. 

In that moment, it seemed to Leo that the best way to help Donnie was to give him a clean slate - some time away to think without all of the distractions of life around the Lair, his bickering family and their own conflicted emotions, his dozens of projects, and this newfound critical security threat. Surely, if Don had some time to really consider the path that he was choosing, he would realize what everyone else already had - that this was all just too much to handle. If that meant tough love, then so be it. Being a leader means making difficult decisions, and right now Don needed to be protected from himself. 

Leonardo tried to sound stronger than he was. “You wouldn’t be alone. You would have your kids.” Leo hoped that phrasing it that way would trigger Don to really think about their needs. 

Don was shaking now. “I can’t.”

“Well, you can’t honestly expect us to go with you right now, right? If this invasion is imminent, we need to protect Earth.” Leo hoped that the explanation seemed logical, even if it was only part of the reason that it was best for Don to have some time alone. He added a little more, just in case. “Hun is wreaking havoc in New York because of us. We’re the ones who stole his antenna and set him off on this rampage. We can’t cause all this trouble and just leave. What if he was to find your prototype and tip off the Triceraton?” 

“Yeah,” Don agreed. “I thought I was needed here too, Leo. That’s why I’ve been working so hard on the Earth Defense System.”

“But we can’t need you, Don. You’re leaving the team,” Leonardo argued. “You’re choosing to be a father instead. So the rest of us just have to live with that choice.”

Don was quiet. He didn’t recall agreeing to leave the team. 

“And you have to live with it too, Donatello. Choosing to father those kids is a noble thing, but it also means that everything changes. Your children won’t be safe here in the Lair. This is a vigilante base that could be attacked at any time. It’s not a home to raise children in. It’s not fair of you to ask me to be responsible for choices that I don’t even agree with. I can’t be worried about extremely vulnerable babies on top of everything else.”

“I never asked you to be responsible,” Don stammered. “I’m responsible.” 

“If you are accepting full responsibility for their safety, please explain to me why it makes sense to keep them here, in a damn sewer, where they will be constantly hunted and have to be hidden. Why keep them in New York, where all our worst enemies know where to find us? You’re supposed to be the genius, Donatello. And you’re the parent, and the one accepting responsibility. Please explain to me why it makes sense to stay.”

“For you guys. For family.” Donatello looked around desperately, but no one came to his rescue. Don had known that Raphael was freaked out by this whole thing, but he had expected Michelangelo to stick up for him. Mikey was just… standing there. 

Leonardo’s voice was level and almost cold. Emotion wasn’t playing into this at all anymore - only logic. “Don’t stick around on our account. You’ve already made your choice.” Leonardo pointed to Don’s middle once more, his finger shaking with emotions that he was fighting desperately to restrain. “Do what’s best for them. Find somewhere else to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very difficult to write, and I’m sure that a lot of you will hate me for it. But, it was necessary for the progression of the story. Thanks for reading.


	38. Chapter 38

It was the middle of the night when the knock came at April’s door. Knowing that it had to be something urgent, she rushed to open it. A sobbing Donatello stood on the threshold, too pregnant and upset to have risked the fire escape. The sight was a shock, so she just silently pulled him into a hug and backed them both into the apartment. “Let's get you off your feet, Don. Sit down,” she urged as she pulled him to the sofa. 

Don complied and sat down next to her, but it took a good five minutes of crying onto her shoulder and having his shell rubbed before he was ready to break the embrace. “What’s wrong, Don?” April asked, gently. A litany of terrible possibilities had been racing through her head, but his answer took her completely by surprise. 

“My family doesn’t w-want me around,” Don managed to utter. “They don’t love me anymore.” With that, Don returned to sobbing on her shoulder. 

“I’m sure that’s not true, Don,” she soothed. It couldn’t be. The turtles were the most tight-knit family she knew. At least, they used to be. They wouldn’t turn one of their own away, no matter how hard things got. There had to be some confusion. 

“It-it is,” Don cried. His whole body was trembling. April’s heart was breaking for him. “They t-told me to leave. Can I stay here tonight? I have nowhere else to go.”

“Oh, Don. Of course, you can stay.” April wanted to tell him that they’d get this all straightened out in the morning. She didn’t want to speak out of turn, though. She really didn’t know what was going on. “You can stay here as long as you want. Let me just wake Casey and you can have the bed. The two of us will sleep out here.”

Don tugged April back down before she could get up. “No. I’ll sleep out here. I don’t want to put you guys out.”

“You can’t sleep on the sofa in your condition. You need more room.”

April’s concern for him made Don cry harder. It felt like his family hadn’t been thinking about his comfort or feelings at all. To have April hug him and fuss over him just drove that point home. “I’ll be fine, April. Really. You’re doing enough. I can’t take your bed.”

“Okay, Don,” she conceded, recognizing that pushing further would only upset him more. Once Don was ready to let go of her again, she retrieved some blankets and pillows and helped him get settled on the sofa. She sat with him until he cried himself to sleep. Even after that, she stayed for a while. The turtle was positively fitful. He kept sniffling and periodically moaning long after he had drifted off. April frowned and looked sadly at her poor best friend. This was going to be a real surprise for Casey in the morning. 

oOo

Unlike the last time he slept over, Don did not have fun or sleep well at all. April awoke to a clattering the next morning and found that Don was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and a long hug before she even said good morning. Don clung to her as if his life depended on it. 

“I’m cooking breakfast for you guys,” Don announced. “Sort of a thank you for taking me in last night.”

April gave him a final pat on the back, then went to the counter to check out the food. She had heard stories about Don’s cooking, but none of this looked too bad. Slightly burned pancakes and slightly runny scrambled eggs were set out on plates. He had made some sort of yogurt parfait with fruit and granola that actually looked pretty good. “I’ve been practicing,” Don said as if reading her mind. 

“It looks good, but you didn’t have to do this.” April gave him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Don.”

Casey stumbled onto the room. “Wow, breakfast. Thanks, Don.”

“No problem. Thanks for letting me stay.”

Casey swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “You can stay as long as you want.”

April smiled. She was glad that Casey had been the one to make the offer. He and Don weren’t necessarily close, so it meant more coming from him. 

“It’d be cool if you let us know what’s up, though,” Casey continued. 

Don visibly deflated and then carefully took a seat at the table. April noticed that he hadn’t taken any food for himself, and from the looks of things, he had barely slept. “Not much to say. Leo threw me out.”

Casey let his latest forkful of food hover in front of his mouth. “I can’t see that happening.”

“I didn’t see it coming either,” Don admitted sadly. “I wasn’t prepared for this at all.”

“You sure you didn’t misunderstand?” Casey asked. 

Don shook his head. “He made himself pretty clear. Told me to find somewhere else to go.”

“But why?” April wondered. “What on earth would cause him to do something like that?”

“Apparently, he feels backed into a corner. He and Raph, they don’t want the babies.” Don swallowed hard. “And last night a couple of Hun’s men planted a tracking device on the Battle Shell. They almost found the garage. We led them away, but then Leo kind of lost it. He said that he couldn’t be responsible for the babies, that it was unfair of me to burden him with that, and that I was being selfish.”

April put her hand on Don’s. “I think he’s just freaking out. This happens to a lot of families with unexpected babies on the way. I’m sure he’ll get over this Don.”

“I’m not so sure. Seemed like he had a pretty long list of complaints,” Don reasoned. “You know how the stress gets to Leo. I think this is just too much for him. He’s bottled it up for too long, and now he’s just done… with all of it… with me.”

“That’s not the Leo I know,” April reassured. “He loves his family more than anything. He would never, never, ever just cut you off.”

Don gave her the saddest look. “And yet he did.”

“Have you heard from anyone since last night?” Casey asked. 

“No,” Don answered quietly. “Not a single call or text. I would have thought that at least Mikey...” Don trailed off. 

“I’ll talk to them,” April promised. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Don looked at her for a minute, then nodded. “I just sort of ran out last night without thinking. At the very least, I need some of my stuff. Clothes, medical equipment, my hormones. I need my next dose this afternoon.”

Casey realized that if April left to make a call, he’d be left alone with a very pregnant, and very depressed Donatello. “You know what, why don’t I call Raph?” he offered. “Sounds like this was all Leo’s doing, so it’d probably be better to talk to him. See what’s really going on.”

Don just sat there, looking helpless. April put a hand on his shell. “Go ahead,” she told Casey. “Just take the call in the other room.”

oOo

Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo were sitting in a deathly silent Lair when Raphael’s phone rang. “It’s Casey,” he said, looking to Leonardo for guidance. 

“Put it on speaker,” Leonardo ordered. 

Raphael paused for a moment, then followed the command. “Yo, Casey. Got Leo and Mikey here with me.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got Don here with April and me,” Casey answered. “What gives?”

“Some thugs tracked us back to the Lair last night. They didn’t break in, but Leo is worried about how close they got,” Raphael explained. “We all think it's best that Don lays low for a while. The Lair might not be safe, and he’s not capable of escaping as quickly and easily as the rest of us.”

“He’s under the impression that you guys kicked him out.” Casey ran a hand down his face. He hated discussing emotional stuff. “He’s pretty upset, and our sofa isn’t the best place for him, given his condition.”

Surprisingly, it was Michelangelo who spoke next. “Things are complicated here. It might not seem it, but I think he’s better off with you guys than here.”

“What?!” Casey bellowed. 

Leonardo broke into the conversation for the first time. “Don is pretty far along. That false labor scare the other day… it really got to us.”

“He’s been fine since then,” Casey said. “Even as upset as he was last night, he isn’t having any more problems like that.”

“That’s good,” Leonardo replied. “But, it happened because he wasn’t taking care of himself. He had a panic attack the other night too. Thought he might be dying, and had no idea what was wrong or how to treat it.”

“We don’t think he can do this,” Raphael cut in. “Have the babies and keep them safe. Time is running out for us to show him that.”

“Don thinks he’s got things under control,” Leonardo added. “We don’t think he even realizes how dangerous all this is. And, he won’t listen to us, so…”

“So you really are throwing him out?” Casey howled. “I can’t believe this.”

“We’re not throwing him out,” Mikey insisted. “Were doing this because we love him, and we’re scared that if we don’t do something to change his mind now, we’ll lose him forever.”

“So what do you want me to tell him?” Casey asked. “That he can’t come home unless he agrees to find a way to get medical care?”

“It’s more than just that,” Leo said. “He needs to be in a safer place than the Lair while he’s so vulnerable, and he should take this time away from all the distractions of home to really consider what the future will look like for him, and especially for the babies.”

Casey laughed bitterly. “Because what? You guys won’t be there for them?” 

“Not all the time,” Leonardo said. “Our lives have never been stable. If he wants to raise those kids, his life will have to be. It’s best that he figures out how to accomplish that now.”

Casey took a minute to think. That was the first thing Leo had said that kind of made sense. Finally, he asked, “So do you want to tell him that or should I?”

Everyone was quiet for a minute. Leonardo finally spoke. “It might be better coming from you. We just… We’ve all been through a lot. We’ve been trying to be strong for him, but… it’s just a little hard to keep it all together. Just make sure that he knows that it’s for his own safety. As far as I’m concerned, the Lair is compromised.”

Casey had been bluffing. He really didn’t want to talk to Don. He’d thought for sure that Leo would offer to. He groaned. “Listen, he needs his hormones and medical stuff.”

“We can start packing it up,” Leo offered. “All that stuff would be safer with you guys anyway.”

Casey couldn’t believe things had gone this far. He made arrangements to swing by later that day, then hung up and looked fearfully at the door. He should have let April make the call. She would’ve known how to set this right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thanks for all of the support last chapter. I was worried that everyone would hate it and abandon the story. Instead, I believe that it got more comments, kudos, and new bookmarks than any of the other more recent chapters have. I really appreciate the positive feedback. So, thank you!


	39. Chapter 39

To live in the city is to grow accustomed to noise, and this was certainly true for Donatello. But unlike most of the citizens of New York, Don was more accustomed to the drips of pipes and the sounds of rats scurrying than sirens, car alarms, and conversations echoing from alleyways. This effect was only amplified at night. Raphael’s snoring was replaced by a stranger yelling at a stray cat. The sound of flowing water was replaced by flowing traffic. 

Don was sitting near the window, watching life pass him by. It was dark enough that no one would notice his mutated face, but the streetlights below cast plenty of light on the city’s fully human population as they went about their business. 

Couples strolled by holding hands, some young, some old. Friends yelled back and forth, reminding him of his brothers during better times. Parents passed with their strollers, bringing a smile to his face that he hadn’t been expecting. 

One hand was resting on his swollen belly as his thumb traced lazy circles along its crest. He looked down in contemplation. This world he was watching was one that he could never truly be a part of. Maybe it would be better for his children when they came of age. The future that he had briefly been a part of in 2105 - Bishop’s future - had been welcoming to aliens. His family had more or less fit in. Perhaps his children would get a taste of that. For Don himself, it would be too late. Even if he lived to see those days, he would never be free in his heart. 

Maybe he was just overtired and hormonal, but it made him unbearably sad. He truly didn’t know if he was doing right by his children. He had thought that he was happy before his father died and his family cast him aside. Back then, he had believed that happiness was possible for his children as well. Watching those people on the sidewalks below made him realize how alone he really was, and how alone they would be in this world. Maybe Leonardo and Raphael were right after all, and they should be raised somewhere that they could know true freedom. 

oOo

When April awoke, she found Don working on his laptop. A steaming cup of coffee sat next to him. He had been avoiding caffeine, but he craved coffee almost as much as oxygen, particularly on days where he felt more sluggish than usual. The decaf was a poor substitute, but at least he was getting a taste of the flavor he desired.

Tired though he may be, Don’s powers of observation were as sharp as ever. He didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder to confirm his friend’s presence. “Morning, April. There’s a half pot of wannabe coffee on the counter if you want it.”

April hugged Don from behind and noticed his shoulder muscles were hard as rocks. The poor guy was stressed to the max. She kissed his cheek. “I know misery loves company and all, but I’m just going to grab a cup of the good stuff on the way to work. What are you up to?”

Don groaned, then smiled warmly. “My budget and to-do lists.”

“Wow. You sound like a regular grownup,” April observed. 

Don glanced down at his rapidly growing belly and then back up to April. “Not like I have much choice, right?”

“You can always stay here with Casey and me.” April gave his shoulder a loving pat before heading to the fridge. He’d been a model houseguest these past few days. 

“No. I mean, you’re very kind and I love you, April, but I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to you guys, and if I do stay on earth, the kids will need to be well-hidden.”

“Eh, it’s your decision, Don. Just know that you’re not alone in this, and we’ll help you however we can.”

Don quickly blinked back his tears, but he couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice. “I know. Thanks, April.” He took in a cleansing breath and gathered himself. “When you get off of work, I’d really like it if you checked all of this over. I’ll even buy you dinner as a thank you. You know, if I have the budget.” Don winked and smiled widely as April turned back to him.

“Oh, I’m sure you can afford to buy me dinner. It’s your own dinner that I’d be worried about, given the amount of food that you need right now,” April replied. 

Don might’ve been offended if not for the fond smile on April’s face. “Well, what do you expect? I’m eating for four.”

April turned serious. “All kidding aside, I hope you are.” She had noticed that Don had only been picking at his food during meals. She didn’t know if it was due to embarrassment or depression, or simply discomfort. Whatever the reason, she hoped that Don wasn’t depriving himself. He couldn’t afford to right now. 

“Don’t worry. I’m eating you out of house and home.” Don nodded in the direction of the empty fruit bowl. 

April nodded. “Good. I’ll pick up some provisions after work. Just text me a list this afternoon.”

“Will do, April. Have a good day.”

“You too, Don.” April kissed his cheek again on the way out the door and pretended not to notice the blush that rose to his face as a result. He was such a sweet kid. 

And he was a kid. April thought about that all day. Her ‘grownup’ comment had just been intended as meaningless banter, but then she couldn’t get the conversation out of her head. 

It was easy to forget just how young Don was. His intelligence made him seem so much older, and his calm, collected demeanor only served to magnify that effect. But, he was a pregnant, single teenager, and an outcast, orphaned one at that. To make matters worse, he had been held captive and cruelly experimented on and then virtually abandoned by his family. 

He was also a strong, kind, big-hearted guy that never wanted anyone to worry about him. He made it seem like he was in control, and that everything was okay. Maybe it really was. April knew that Donatello was capable of handling a lot.

Being a part of the turtles’ lives had a way of making the abnormal seem normal. But, when April took a step back, she saw just how heartbreaking this really was. Don was hurting in every way possible, both physically and emotionally. 

oOo

Don spent a week in April and Casey’s home. He didn’t speak to his family at all during that time. He thought about things from every angle. He made list after list of pros and cons. He set emotions aside and thought logically. Other times, he threw logic out the window and contemplated the most unexplored corners of his heart and soul. He had long, late-night conversations with April, and sometimes even Casey. 

He asked April if he was burdening her by asking her to help him manage the remainder of his pregnancy and birth. She insisted it was fine. He asked if he was crazy to prefer staying on Earth, and she told him that he wasn’t. He asked if happiness was an illusion. She told him that she didn’t think it was. He cried more than he ever had in his life. 

When all was said and done, he decided to follow his heart, to raise his kids in the only home that he had ever known, and to work as hard as he could to give them the best lives possible. He decided to have faith in his family, that they would learn to forgive him in their own time for whatever mistakes he had made, and was possibly still making. He swore to himself that he would forgive them in turn and that he would trust that they were only behaving this way out of love and concern for him, however wrong it seemed at the moment. 

He texted his brothers and said that he was moving into Leatherhead’s old place. The babies would be safe there. They would be separate from the Lair, and therefore more hidden and isolated, but they would be near enough that they could visit their family whenever they wanted to. It seemed like a good compromise and a way to address many of his brothers’ concerns. Don felt like he was too far along to leave New York now, but he could always go somewhere else later if need be.

As much as he felt confident that this was the right decision, at least for now, Don felt a shiver of fear as he sent the message. He turned off his phone right after hitting send, too scared of reading the responses. 

oOo

April and Casey had never visited Leatherhead’s old home in the sewers. From the way that Donatello had talked it up, they had expected better. 

The “home” consisted of two rooms. One was large and had an area for cooking and a single bathroom. The other was substantially smaller and had nothing but a bed inside. The bed itself was little more than two California king size mattresses pushed together and connected by Velcro. It was raised off of the floor on a simple wooden support. 

The entire apartment was constructed of cement. It was moldy and filthy. There was no decor other than the bed. 

“Isn’t it great?” Don asked. 

“Uh,” Casey mumbled. 

“It’s dry,” April observed. 

“Yes, Leatherhead and I installed a state of the art pumping system. It’s already plumbed and wired for electric. Best of all, it has a darn good security system. It’s been idle for a few years now, but it won’t take me too long to update it.” Don frowned and put a hand under his belly, then waddled to the bed and sat down. Dust flew everywhere, but he didn’t care. He’d had to cut way back on his workouts since leaving the Lair, and the walk down here had done a number on him. The babies felt so heavy now. 

Don sat there rubbing his belly, lost in thought. April wrinkled her nose. “We’ll need to replace this mattress. It’s awfully musty.”

Don nodded. “I could go smaller too. A king-sized bed would be plenty for me, even now.” 

April smiled. “Well, if you can fit onto our sofa...”

Don simply returned the smile. Truthfully, he wasn’t really fitting. His shell took up so much space as it was. Now, with his belly so big, he couldn’t lie on his side without a part of it hanging over the edge. He’d been pulling the coffee table closer at night for support. He didn’t want April or Casey to know. They’d insist that he take the bed, and he couldn’t do that. 

“A smaller bed would give me room to put the cribs in here with me,” Don considered. “I could mount a TV on the wall in the other room. Get a big sofa and a little desk for my work area.”

“What about your lab?” April realized. 

Don fidgeted with his hands. “Well, I can’t really have one, can I?”

Casey looked around. “Yeah. There sure ain’t a lot of room to spare.”

“Even if there were, who would watch the babies while I was working? Labs are noisy, and they have dangerous chemicals. I’d need to increase the ventilation.” Don paused. “And some experiments are hard to stop in the middle if I need to attend to childcare. I can’t have anything burning or blowing up. Plus, what’ll there be to experiment on? I think I’ll just… be a dad for a while.”

April was struck again by how grown-up Donatello sounded. “Once things blow over with the guys, I’m sure you can use your old lab in the Lair.”

Don shrugged sadly. “Sure. They’re pretty close by, and it’s not like I need two.”

“What about a garage?” Casey asked. 

“There’s a little alcove nearby that I used to park the sewer slider in when I came to visit LH. If I’m going to use that spot permanently, I’ll need to make it more secure. But, it’s an option.” Don sat up a little straighter. “In the meantime, I’ll be one of the millions of New Yorkers without a car.”

“Again, I’m sure the guys will allow you to share the garage. You built all that stuff after all,” Casey pointed out. 

Don didn’t reply. Instead, he stood up. “Come on, let me show you one of the best parts of this place.” He led April and Casey to the bathroom, of all places. “Take a look at the tub,” he invited. 

Much like the bed, the tub was Leatherhead-sized. It was custom made out of concrete and was about three feet deep. There were also several showerheads set up at different heights. “Wow, it’s practically a swimming pool,” Casey observed. 

Don arched his aching back. “It’s going to feel amazing. I’ve been wanting to take a bath for the longest time. The babies will enjoy it too. I know I loved baths as a kid, being a turtle and all.”

“You could’ve used our tub,” April offered. 

“Didn’t want to scratch it up with my shell,” Don replied. “And before that, I didn’t want to monopolize the only bathroom in the Lair. But now, this will be all mine. Once I get the hot water hooked up, I’m going to have the soaking of a lifetime.”

April smiled. It was nice to see Don genuinely excited about something. He’d been so depressed. 

“So, what do you guys think of the place?” Don asked. “Be honest with me.”

“It needs a good cleaning and lots of furniture, but it has potential,” April answered. 

“If I know you, you can make it great,” Casey added. 

Don was thrilled to have their approval. “I know it’s kind of small, but it’ll be easier to keep it clean and to keep track of the babies. I’m sure they’ll want more room when they’re older, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“It’s not like you never moved before,” Casey said. 

“I hate to tell you to make yet another list,” April added. “But let’s make a list. We’ll need to do a thorough cleaning, check the utilities, and update the security system before you move in. Once all that’s done, we’ll deal with furnishings.”

“I can borrow a power-washer,” Casey volunteered. “The nice thing about all this concrete is that it will come clean really easy. I’ll get it knocked out in a couple of nights.”

“This kitchen will be a little harder,” April said. “Do you know if the fridge and stove work?”

“Last I checked.” Don went over to look. He plugged in the fridge, and they heard the motor start. The light in the stove came on. He tested the burners and set the interior to bake. “Stuff’s old, But seems fine,” he diagnosed. “I’ll need to rebuild the cabinets, though. They’re pretty far gone.”

April whistled. “There’s a lot to do. We’d better get started soon.”

Don chuckled. “Are you guys trying to get rid of me?”

He was only half kidding.


	40. Chapter 40

Much to Don’s surprise, Leonardo called the next day. “Leatherhead’s old place, huh?” Leo said by way of greeting. 

“Uh, yeah,” Don stammered. 

“That’s… smart,” Leo replied. “Safer than here anyway. You need any help getting the place set up?”

“Oh, um. Casey offered to do the cleaning. I probably shouldn’t be around all of the mold and chemicals for too long, but I’m sure he could use a hand,” Don considered. 

“Sure. Raph’s been itching to get out of here,” Leonardo said. 

“And, it would be ideal if we could use the sewer slider for moving my stuff - what’s not already at April and Casey’s that is,” Donatello added. 

“Sure. I’ll start packing it up,” Leonardo volunteered. “You know how I love to organize things.”

Don chuckled, overcome with brotherly affection, despite everything that had happened between them. “Yeah. I do.” 

There was an awkward silence. “So, just all of it in boxes then?” Leo asked. There was an obvious air of...something in Leonardo’s voice, but Don had no idea what to make of it. 

Don hesitated, wondering if he could ask to come home. He realized that a negative response to that question might destroy him, so he shook the notion off and forged ahead. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff in my lab. Some of it is really delicate, and some of the chemicals have very specific storage requirements.”

“No. I’ll leave all that alone,” Leo said. 

“And, Raph and I share tools in the garage. We’ll figure out how to split them up later,” Don continued. 

“Okay. I won’t touch them either. But your room?” Leonardo wondered. 

Don took a moment. He had thought that Leonardo wanted him to leave, but it was hard to read the emotions on his leader’s, or former leader's voice. Leo didn’t sound so firm now. But, it was too little too late. When push comes to shove, Don had been hurt pretty badly by his brothers, and he couldn’t let anything like that happen again. He swallowed hard. 

“Yeah, all of it in boxes. That would be great. Thanks, Leo.”

oOo 

Don had finished his scale model of the Earth Defense System a few days before the big blow out with his brothers. Now, his work was on the computer only. It’s a good thing too because he could hardly even do that. His belly got in the way of everything, and the babies kicks had begun to really hurt. 

He had to spend a lot of time lying on his side to keep them from pressing down too hard on his back and internal organs. Even that was often painful. None of the turtles enjoyed being on their sides, due to the curves of their shells. Don was getting to the point where he could barely recall what it felt like to be well-rested and pain-free. 

“Ouch,” he hissed, as he, April and Casey were watching a movie on the sofa. Don was sitting upright, with his feet up on the coffee table. They were swollen after a day of working on the security system at the apartment. At least that was done, and the place was almost move-in ready. He hadn’t encountered his brothers, but Casey said that Raphael had been a pro with the power washer. 

April looked at Don with concern. “Did you overdo it today?”

“No. I just took simultaneous kicks to the ribs and spine.” Don winced and wriggled around. “I’m glad they’re so strong, but I wish that they’d go easier on me. They’ve started leaving bruises.”

Don grimaced miserably. April saw the thump of another kick and rested her hand on the spot. Don loved that. His brothers had been afraid to touch him at all. It was as though they were afraid that the babies would jump out of him and into them. It felt nice to be accepted, rather than treated as something repulsive. He drifted off to sleep while his big sister gave him a belly rub. 

oOo

Leatherhead’s old apartment was now nearly unrecognizable when compared to the abandoned moldy wreck that it had been mere weeks ago.

The bedroom had been transformed to include a sleeping area for Donatello and a nursery area for the babies. The half-built cribs were neatly lined up against the wall, having been transported there by Raphael and Casey after the power washing was complete. The bedroom was still sterile and sparsely decorated, but the atmosphere was brightened by the voices of the makeshift family drifting in from the adjacent living area. 

“You sure you don’t want to spend another night at our place?” Casey asked. He was packing food into the fridge while April and Don arranged the furniture in the living room. 

“I’m sure,” Don assured him. “I want to break this place in before I get too big to make repairs and stuff.”

Casey chuckled. “You might be there already, buddy.”

“I’ve still got plenty of fight left in me,” Don promised. Truthfully, he wanted to collapse into that newly refurbished king-sized bed, but he was in no rush for his friends to leave. 

“You know we’re just a phone call and a five-minute drive away,” Casey reminded him. “Anything you need, day or night, we’ll be here.”

“And be warned, I’m going to look in on you using the security camera from time to time,” April added. “Assume that you have no privacy.”

Don nodded, feeling nearly overcome with love and affection. “Got it.”

“The guys will come running if you need them. Raph promised me he would,” Casey told Don. 

The smile faded from Don’s face. “I know.” Still, he would have preferred if they told him in person. They’d helped with the move, but it was all behind the scenes. He hadn’t seen them at all since their fight. They almost never called and hardly texted. 

Angel came over, and they had a miniature housewarming party. She even brought him some picture frames with ultrasound photos Don had previously emailed her. It meant a lot to him. His new place was feeling a lot more like a home, but it was in dire need of decorating and personal touches. He was out of his league, as far as stuff like that was concerned. 

April had her hands on her hips. “I’m buying you some throw rugs and pillows. This place needs to be more colorful.”

“Some of those light-up signs might be nice, or maybe some cool lamps and funky light fixtures,” Angel added. “Something to make up for the lack of windows.”

“String lights?” April brain-stormed. 

Don and Casey looked at one another and shrugged. 

The party ended in the early evening. It was a Sunday night, so the humans had school and work the next morning. April insisted on helping clean up. Don had to practically force her out the door before she broke down weeping. He couldn’t have handled that without breaking down himself. 

Don closed the door and looked around his now quiet home. He’d never been alone for any length of time before. Area 51 didn’t really count in his mind, given that he was always under guard, and he spent all day working with Valeria. 

Of course, it was a matter of debate whether he was truly alone right now. He put a hand on his belly and looked down at the big bump in his plastron that was currently doing an admirable job of obscuring his feet. “So, what do we do now?” he asked it. The babies reacted to their father’s voice, as though they knew that he was talking to them, and were eager to answer. 

Then Don remembered. “The tub!”

April had known how excited Don was about the bath. She’d purchased him some fancy oils and scented salts, even some bubble bath. Mindful that he didn't want to be perceived as too feminine, she had stuck to mostly non-floral scents. She’d added some big fluffy towels too. It was a pretty awesome housewarming gift. 

Leatherhead’s water heater had been dead on arrival, so Donatello had installed a tankless heater that Casey had found broken in the junkyard. Fixing it had been easy work, and Don now had infinite hot water to fill his huge tub. 

Don selected the most promising oil and salt combination, then filled the tub neck-deep before climbing in. It was a real treat for a pregnant turtle in dire need of a nice soak for his aching joints and overstressed body. There were concrete steps on both the interior and exterior. Don could picture himself sitting on them while the babies splashed around in here. For now, they made a convenient shelf for the leftover party snacks that he’d brought with him. 

He sighed in contentment, and let himself sink down until only his eyes and nostrils were popping out above the steaming eucalyptus and spearmint-scented water. This place was feeling like home already.


	41. Chapter 41

Don’s work on the Earth Defense System was coming to a close. It wasn’t exactly done yet, but most of what was left could be handled by the build team, and the programming was being spearheaded by Valeria at this point. Don still spent a few hours a day on it, which was way down from his previous level of ‘nearly constant.’

He was a little surprised when Valeria called him. It had been a while since he had heard from her. 

Valeria cut straight to the chase. “Don, your friends in New York must have repaired their equipment. They’re transmitting again.”

Don had noticed the deep-space signals emanating from Earth as well, but they had hardly come as a shock. He had figured that Hun wouldn’t be satisfied to lay low and keep quiet forever. “I know. I still can’t translate the messages though,” he replied. 

“Well, we can,” Valeria announced. 

Don perked up. “You cracked the code?”

“I’m afraid so. The news isn’t good. Bishop’s instincts were correct. Earth is being targeted,” Valeria announced, clinically. 

At this point, Don wasn’t surprised. “At least the Earth Defense System is almost ready for prime time. A few more months and we should be good to go. Do you know if we have that long?”

“That’s where Hun’s crew comes in,” Valeria answered. “Apparently, the Triceraton needed some allies on Earth to help suppress any uprisings during the early stages of the invasion, so they hired Hun to recruit soldiers for them. He’s supposed to let them know when he’s organized a large enough group. That’s when the Triceraton will make their move.”

Don’s blood ran cold. “Oh jeez. Well, at least we aren’t going to be caught off guard.”

The tenor of Valeria’s voice changed. “Bishop is sending a team to New York to spy on Hun. He asked me to go too. Now that we’ve cracked the code, we might be able to stave off the invasion. If we can seize the communication equipment, I can send the Triceraton a message saying that they’ve been foiled and that Earth is ready to fight them off. I can tell them not to come, warn them that we’re prepared to destroy any ship that dares to enter our solar system.”

Don took in a breath. “That sounds awfully dangerous, Valeria.”

“But it just might work, right?” Valeria said, slyly. “Plus, it would be nice to add ‘badass spy’ to my resume.”

Don couldn’t help but grin. “I had no idea that you had this taste for danger.”

“Maybe you rubbed off on me a little.” The fondness in Valeria’s voice was unmistakable. 

“Just, promise me that you’ll be careful,” Don replied. He wanted to make arrangements to meet her, even to help out. But, he couldn’t let her see him in his current state. 

When the call ended, Valeria couldn’t help but feel a little crestfallen. She was really hoping that traveling to New York would give her the chance to see Donatello again. She missed him a lot. But, he hadn’t invited her over, or even acted excited that she’d be in the area. She understood he may not want to risk being recaptured by Bishop, but still… Maybe they weren’t as close as she thought they were. 

Donatello called Leonardo to fill him in. If Bishop was after Hun, it was best that the turtles keep a low profile. Leo also needed to know about the increased likelihood of invasion. The conversation was little more than an exchange of facts and a terse goodbye. 

The next day, Donatello awoke with a groan, having slept like crap the night before. He would’ve loved to have stayed in bed, but his stomach and bladder insisted otherwise. Reluctantly, he began the slow and painful process of sitting himself up and getting out of bed without hurting himself or anyone else in his care. “I'd really appreciate it if you guys went easy on me today,” he begged of his unborn. “Dad had a rough night.” Moving around was getting harder and harder with each passing day. 

Don dragged himself into the kitchen, holding onto his increasingly heavy belly the whole time. The nice thing about living alone was that no one was around to tease him about his pronounced waddle or to poke fun at his size. The downside was that there was no one to help him out. He had so much left to do before the babies came, and getting anything done was so difficult when he was this tired and in this much pain all the time. 

After eating as much as his squashed stomach would allow him to, he gathered his equipment and dropped to his knees in front of the sink with a pained ‘ack.’ Everything in this place was built for Leatherhead, and Leatherhead was quite a bit taller than the turtles. This meant that everything needed to be brought down to size. Don couldn’t keep using step stools, especially with his balance as compromised as it was. And, if he waited, the babies would be keeping him too busy to finish. Even if he tried working while they slept, the sound of power tools would wake them.

And so it was that Don found himself flat on his shell as he worked on the plumbing below the sink. His huge belly towered above him, preventing him from maneuvering the way he wanted to, and making the angle even more awkward. 

He squirmed to and fro with ever-increasing difficulty as he worked on the connection closest to the wall. By the time he was done, the plumbing was perfect, but he was in complete agony. He backed out of the cabinet and laid on his back for a few moments, taking deep breaths and clenching his eyes shut while massaging his sides. The unfortunate thing about having a shell is that once you hurt your back, there’s nothing to be done about it. Backrubs and heating pads are nice in principle, but they don’t penetrate far enough to do any real good. By the feel of things, he was going to be down and out for the next few days.

Finally building up enough courage to attempt to move, Don carefully rolled onto his side, choking out a strained breath as he did so. He took a few more minutes to gather himself. He didn’t know how he was going to make it onto his feet without causing himself further pain. “Any ideas?” he asked his unborn. They had no advice, so he rolled onto his hands and knees, bending his elbows just enough to rest his forehead on the floor as lightning shot up and down his spine. He did eventually manage to make it to his feet, but he could only get as far as the sofa before his legs gave out entirely. His strained back just couldn’t handle any more movement.

April found him asleep on the sofa a couple of hours later. She placed a gentle hand on his belly, causing a ghost of a smile to cross his face as he hummed in contentment. Even in sleep, he looked exhausted. She didn’t want to wake him, so she set about unpacking the supplies she had brought, and cleaning up a little. When she was done, she noticed he was watching her with half-lidded eyes.

April grinned. “Hey, sleepyhead. How are you doing?”

Don yawned and rubbed a hand up and down his side, testingly. “Honestly, not so good. I threw my back out and now I can hardly move.”

“Oh no,” April said in alarm. “How’d you do that?”

“Working on the plumbing,” he explained. April approached and for a moment Don expected a hug. Instead, he was met with a punch in the arm. Typical of how his life was going lately. 

“Ow! Why did you do that?” Don cried with genuine hurt in his tone. 

April crossed her arms to keep herself from doing it again. “You should’ve left that for Casey or I, Donatello! You’re in no condition!”

“I’m sorry,” Don whimpered. “I’m used to doing things on my own. You know that.”

“Fine, well, no need to apologize, I guess,” April relented. “Just promise me that you won’t do anything like this again without telling us first.”

“Okay. I don’t think that will be a problem. Feels like I’m going to be down and out for a while,” Don admitted. 

“It’s bad?” April asked, putting a hand on his shell.

“Yeah,” he winced. “It really hurts.” April rubbed his shell for a few minutes. Don sighed and enjoyed the much-needed affection for a bit before piping up. “April?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been stranded here like a beached whale for the better part of the afternoon. Do you mind getting me something to eat and drink?”

She laughed warmly at how utterly helpless the once-mighty warrior sounded, giving him a final pat on the shell. “Sure. Anything in particular that you want?”

“Milk and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or two? Please?” he said hopefully.

“Milk with PB&J?” she teased. “Just because you’re carrying children doesn’t mean that you need to eat like one. I can make you something better.”

Don closed his eyes, still feeling miserable. “Milk is good for the babies’ bones and the PB&J is just a craving. Plus it’s cheap.”

April set about making the sandwiches. While she worked, Don updated her on the latest developments with the Triceraton. 

“What’ll we do?” April asked. 

“I don’t think there’s anything to do,” Don assured her. “The Earth Defense System is in good shape. Valeria said that Bishop is using my designs to build other weapons as well.”

“That’s comforting, I guess.” April handed him the sandwiches and milk, then began slicing up an apple. 

Don took a bite. Chewing while laying down was hard, but given the stabbing pains beneath his shell, he was scared to sit up. Drinking while laying down was even harder, but April had been smart enough to give him a straw. 

“Even if the Triceraton started moving in on Earth today, it would still take them months to get here,” Don explained. “There’s nothing to do but wait, and trust the Earth Protection Force to do its job.”

April put the sliced fruit on Don’s coffee table and placed a warm towel on his side to help with the pain. “I don’t trust Bishop, but I’d bet my life on you,” she said with a smile. 

Don made a content little noise deep in his throat. He hoped that April could keep him company for a while.


	42. Chapter 42

“Tech support. This is Don. How may I help you?” 

Even though he hated it, Donatello needed to keep his IT helpdesk job so that he had money for food, toiletries, and other essentials. He’d depleted his bank account buying used furniture for his apartment. 

Since his back had completely given out, he couldn’t do manual labor. He was done with the Earth Defense System for the time being, and he was trying to get in as many IT support hours as possible. So, there he sat, feeling like an idiot in a self-designed pregnancy support belt, with ice packs crammed around the edge of his shell. 

“My kid spilled juice on my keyboard and now the computer won’t work. Is there anything I can do?”

Don ran a hand down his face and explained that only the keyboard would need replacing and that the computer just seemed unresponsive because there was no way to enter the password. The next call was an actual software problem that Don was able to resolve. 

He hit the button to pull another caller from the queue, only to be met with a high-pitched screech. The unexpected noise made him jump and a wave of agony ran down his debilitated spine.

“Ah!” he cried out in pain. He was too busy clutching his back to disconnect the call. It was a good thing because a voice came on the line. 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry. My son wrestled the phone away when I was on hold, and I was just trying to get it back.”

“No problem, ma’am,” Don panted as he writhed around in his seat. “My name is Don. How can I help you?” 

Don’s sudden movement had apparently woken all three of the babies, and they were rolling around in distress, jostling his poor spine even more. Close to tears, he ran both hands along his middle, in the hopes of calming them. He couldn’t take much more of this. 

Don bit his lip to keep from crying out again as his customer explained her problem. It was a complex one, and he warned her that they were looking at a couple of hours if she wanted to go ahead with remote repairs. It turned out that she worked from home, so the repairs were urgent and essential. He got to work right away and found that the intricate fix provided a welcome distraction. 

As the call neared the end, he found himself chatting with the woman while running his final checks. “So, how long have you been working from home?” he asked. 

“Since Charlie was born about two years ago. Sorry again about how this call started. He’s usually well-behaved.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Don replied, good-naturedly. “You’d be surprised how many calls start with yelling. At least this time it wasn’t directed at me.”

“Thanks for being so understanding. Given your level of patience, I’m guessing you must have kids of your own?” the woman guessed. 

“Soon,” Don said, with a tired glance downwards. “Very soon, hopefully.”

“Expecting, or just planning to be expecting?” his client asked. 

“Expecting. Triplets, in fact.” Don didn’t usually speak about his personal life with customers, for obvious reasons, but it felt nice to talk openly with another parent. He didn’t really know any parents in real life. 

“Triplets!” the woman exclaimed. “Wow, your poor wife!”

“Ha! Tell me about it!” Don laughed. 

“You’d better be spoiling her, Don. I’ve only had the one, but let me tell you, carrying him was no picnic.”

That’d sure be nice - to have a special someone to pamper him. Don never spoke of it, but he would’ve loved to share his life with someone. It had always been a pipe dream, but now it was just plain impossible. Single, mutated, sewer-dwelling freak seeking woman. Must love turtle tots. 

Don got distracted in a cloud of self-pity, so heavily pregnant, completely miserable, and utterly alone. He forgot that it was his turn to speak. His client noticed. “You got kind of quiet. Guilty conscience?” she teased. 

“No!” Don quickly covered. “I was just checking data packets. So, uh, any parenting advice to share?”

“Yeah, actually. You've probably heard this already, but the best advice I’ve received is to know when to walk away. Babies have this way of triggering our natural protective instincts, and when they’re crying. You just want to immediately fix whatever is wrong. But, sometimes you won’t be able to. It’s just so frustrating, and it wears at you. Sometimes, you’ve just got to put them in their cribs and take a few minutes to gather yourself, before you snap. It seems selfish but it’s not. You’ve got to help yourself before you can help anyone else. It’s the classic airplane oxygen mask scenario. Make sure that you can breathe before you tend to others.”

“Good advice,” Don praised as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “And, good news, I think that we’re all done here.”

After finishing up the call, Don took off his headset and signed off for the night. He’d been in his chair for hours, and he needed to get up and attend to other things. But, he felt pinned down by his own size and weight. He knew that the caller was right about the difficulties of child-rearing, but at this point, he just wanted these kids out of him. The third trimester was doing him in. He wasn’t used to being so helpless. 

Don addressed his unborn children. “Okay, guys, let’s do this together. On the count of three, everyone move that way.” He pointed to the kitchen. “One, two, three.” When nothing happened, Don looked down in mock disappointment, amused at his own antics. “Fine, then. I’ll just do it myself. Again. I’m not sharing my food this time, though.”

Don used a portion of his profits from the night’s work to purchase a top of the line body pillow. He didn’t usually splurge on himself, but he had to do something to help out his back. It felt like it was about to snap in two. 

oOo

Whenever April logged into the security system to look in on Don, she found him to be rubbing his extremely pregnant belly. She couldn't remember the last time that she had seen him without one or both hands on it. He even hugged it in his sleep. 

At first, she had thought that he was doing it to alleviate pain. She knew that he lived with a tremendous amount of it every day. His plastron was part of a natural exoskeleton and was never meant to bend and stretch in such an extreme manner. As much as Don complained about his back, she knew that his abdomen hurt almost as much, particularly now that the babies were kicking hard, like the three tiny ninjas in training and bioengineered soldiers that they were. 

In fact, April was more than aware that Donatello was hurting from head to toe. As a ninja and a teenage male, he was used to hiding his pain and discomfort, but he was more transparent than he realized. She knew he still got headaches, because she would catch him sitting in the dark, with his head tossed back, rubbing his temples. She knew that his shoulders hurt from attempting to reach past his protruding stomach to type or to do chores around his home. It was clear from how often he rolled them or massaged them when he thought no one was looking. His fingers were swollen well past their normal size; that couldn’t feel good. His back problems and abdominal muscle spasms were well documented by now, as were his acid reflux, heartburn, and nausea. He often woke up howling from leg cramps; she had seen it on the security feed. His hips, knees, ankles, and feet were struggling under all his newfound weight. His feet and lower legs were incredibly swollen, and he was obviously having a difficult time bending them. 

April knew all this, even though Donatello tried to hide most of it. She was his best friend and his doctor, no one could see through him better than she could. But, even with the long list of physical ailments, what she worried most about was his loneliness. Donatello had never minded working alone in his lab or the garage, but those solitary stretches were bracketed by time spent with his family. He had never truly been alone until now, and she knew that he wasn’t doing well with it. He wasn’t rubbing his belly all the time simply because it hurt, he was doing it because he needed to feel his kids in there. He needed to remind himself that he wasn’t as alone as he seemed and that he wouldn't be alone forever.

April tried to do her part to help him feel better. When Casey was too busy to come over, she made it a point to snuggle up with Don on the couch. It spoke volumes that he let her do that. Don had never allowed himself to display that type of open vulnerability before. On his worst days, he would even quietly ask her to rub his head, his shell, his midsection; whatever was hurting him the most at the time. 

His brothers hadn’t visited once, and April was having a hard time stopping herself from really tearing into them. They ought to be rallying around Donatello. The kindhearted genius had always worked tirelessly for his family, had always been there to support them when they needed it. He ought to be reaping the returns on all of that hard work now. Leo, Raph, and Mikey ought to be making sure that he was as comfortable as possible, and staying off of his poor feet. They ought to be cooking him healthy meals and keeping him entertained. They should be the ones keeping him going. Instead, they had abandoned him. 

She and Casey stopped by every night, but they both had lives in the real world to attend to. They planned to temporarily move in once Don was closer to his due date, but they weren’t able to do it quite yet. In the meantime, she was worried about the damage that was being done to her friend’s sweet heart. 

oOo

Don laid in bed riding out a series of unproductive, albeit painful contractions. He’d already determined that they were going nowhere, just another false labor triggered by overdoing it around his home. It seemed to be on the verge of wrapping up, each spasm growing less painful and further apart than the last. 

“How are you guys doing in there?” Don asked, just wanting to hear the sound of someone’s voice, even if it was simply his own. He was rewarded with a kick to the hand, as if in response. “Oh, so are you the group spokesperson, now? Is this a one kick for yes, two kicks for no type thing?”

He knew it was just a coincidence, but he received another kick to the same spot. “Well, I hope that you’re doing better than me. Maybe to you little ones this just feels like a hug or something. Although take it from me, real hugs are better. I promise I’ll give you lots of those when you come out, whenever that may be.”

The foot that had been kicking him withdrew. “Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” Don joked. He chuckled and then moaned in pain as another contraction hit. He focused on his breathing and rubbed circles with both hands along the sides of his distended plastron. 

“Oh, I could really use a hug myself right now,” he whimpered when it was over. He checked the time on his phone. The two most recent contractions had been ten minutes apart, which was good since the two before that were seven minutes apart. Don puffed out a breath and stared at the ceiling, longing for some company. 

More and more lately, he found himself wishing that he had a mother. There was some stuff that he couldn’t talk about, even with April. He would’ve liked some advice on getting through this from someone who had endured it herself and survived, someone who would love him unconditionally, and didn’t see him as some freak, someone that would’ve been happy to be getting grandbabies out of this whole god-awful ordeal. Don bit his lip. 

He’d tried websites for moms-to-be, but it was different for him. Not many expectant mothers were anticipating triplets. None had an exoskeleton that was painfully coming apart at the seams. They were all biological females, used to dealing with hormonal fluctuations. They all had medical care lined up. Most of them had loving families and support systems. None of them were dealing with half the problems that he was, or so it seemed. Those websites only depressed him more, so he’d stopped visiting them. 

Don adjusted his hold on his midsection and rolled onto his side, allowing himself the luxury of whimpering, since he knew that no one could hear it. 

He hoped to maybe get some rest before April and Casey came over. He planned to cook them dinner, and then play a game of scrabble or something. He needed to take his mind off of his own misery for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a mellow chapter, but I wanted to capture a day in the life before all of the action in the next update. Thanks for reading!


	43. Chapter 43

The phone was on the other side of the room when it began to buzz. For a moment, Don wondered how he had forgotten to bring it with him when he finally sat down after sanding and staining one of the cribs. Then he remembered that no one called him anyway, and since he was currently too big for his belt, it wasn’t automatically on his person. 

Don groaned and then painfully hefted himself to his feet. He managed to reach the phone just before it went to voicemail. He didn’t bother to see who was calling. “Hello?” he huffed. 

“Don? Is that you? It’s Valeria.”

Well, this was unexpected. “It’s me,” Don panted, still out of breath from the struggle to get to his feet and then to the phone. Some ninja he was. “What’s up?” he breathed. “Are you okay?”

Don chastised himself. Of course, she wasn’t. It’s not like she would’ve called just to talk. 

“No, I’m not,” Valeria confirmed. “I think that Hun is onto us. A group of armed men broke into my hotel room. I managed to escape but I know they’re still after me.”

Don gasped “Did you get somewhere safe?”

“I’m okay for now, but I’m scared that my team has been compromised. I tried calling a few of them, but there was no answer on any of their cell phones. I ditched my own phone, in case they were using it to track me. I still have your Shell Cell, though, and I knew that would be safe. I’m sorry but I just didn’t know what else to do. I need help, and you’re the only one that I can call with this thing.”

Suddenly, all of Don’s aches and pains were forgotten. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. We’ll figure this all out together.”

Valeria gave him her location. Don activated a tracking program and instructed her to leave the phone on and get into the sewer then travel several blocks east. Don then squeezed himself into his equipment and began the two and a half-mile hike to her location. He considered stopping by the Lair to grab a sewer slider but then thought better of it. As miserable as a five-mile walk sounded, he couldn’t chance an encounter with his brothers. He’d rather crawl through glass at this point. They’d probably only lecture him about how stupid he was to trust one of Bishop’s employees. 

Valeria’s phone vibrated. She picked it up and said hello, expecting to hear Donatello’s gentle voice in return. Instead, she was met with heavy breathing. Her first instinct was to assume that this phone was somehow compromised as well. She hissed a series of threats and expletives, only to hear Don after all. 

“Wait!” he gasped. “It’s me. You still okay?”

“Yes,” Valeria said, holding back a sigh of relief. “Sorry. I thought you were one of them.”

“I’m almost there,” Don panted. “Didn’t want to startle you when I arrived. Just a heads up; I look different than the last time you saw me.”

“Okaaaay,” Valeria drawled. The guy was a mutant turtle. She was used to him looking abnormal. “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” Don puffed, not bothering to say goodbye before he hung up. 

Donatello appeared a minute later, and he did, indeed, look very different. He was wearing clothes, and what might have been night vision goggles with multiple fancy, high-tech lenses. He had a long staff, but he was leaning heavily on it rather than carrying it in a holster. Perhaps most surprising, he wore a vest that appeared ready to burst apart at the seams over a huge belly that definitely hadn’t been there last she saw him. He had his free hand clutched around the widest part, and was running at an impressive clip, despite a heavy waddle. To his credit, his footsteps were as quiet as ever. While this explained the huffing and puffing, it lent itself to a whole new series of questions. 

Valeria didn’t mean to stare, but it was hard not to. Donatello looked for all the world like he was pregnant, and ready to pop, at that. This didn’t make any sense at all. Had ‘he’ been a ‘she’ all along, and simply too polite to correct people’s misconceptions? Valeria stood there, agawk, while her brain attempted to make sense of this. In the meantime, Don sensed her distress, although perhaps not its cause. His strong arms came around her, and he pulled her in close. It was an awkward hug, and Don was forced to twist himself at an uncomfortable angle to make it work, but it was all the reassurance that Valeria needed. 

She buried her face in his chest, overcome by the feeling that everything would be all right now. It was amazing how his mere presence could fix everything that had been going wrong. For a moment, she kind of hoped that Don really was pregnant. He’d be the boo-boo kisser to end all boo-boo kissers. She was so happy to be in his comforting arms that she didn’t realize she had started crying. “Hey now, it’s okay,” Don soothed. “You’re safe.”

“I know, Don. Thanks for coming.” She reluctantly pulled out of the hug. 

“You okay?” Don asked, giving her a brief once-over. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No,” Valeria confirmed. “I heard them jiggling the doorknob, and I booked it out the fire escape. They chased me for a while, but I lost them in a crowd. I don’t think they saw me drop my phone or go into the sewer.”

“Great job,” Don complimented. His shell made a thunking sound as he leaned back against the masonry. He toggled a switch on his eyewear and looked around. 

“Thanks,” Valeria said. “And thanks for meeting me. I had no idea where to go or what to do. All I could think of was to call you.”

“No problem,” Don said, as he adjusted another setting. 

Valeria couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “You weren’t kidding about looking different.”

“It’s the goggles,” Don quipped. 

Valeria took this to mean that he didn’t want to discuss his extremely obvious physical changes. “Yeah, must be.” She smiled. “So, what do they do, other than make you look like a total badass?”

“They have a number of different functions - night vision, infrared, echolocation.” Apparently satisfied, Don flipped the lenses up to reveal his chocolate brown eyes. “No sign of you being tracked. Now let’s sweep you for bugs.”

“What? The goggles don’t do that too?”

“Nope. Different tool.” Don pulled a makeshift-looking device out of a brown duffel bag and connected some wires. He then ran it up and down her body, both front and back. “You’re clean,” he finally congratulated. 

“As clean as I can be given that I’m in a sewer,” Valeria commented. “So, what's the plan now?”

Don finished repacking his equipment, then pushed off the wall with a grunt. “Now, we go back to my place and figure out our next steps. I promise you’ll be safe there. I’ve got it locked down tighter than Fort Knox.”

“Okay,” Valeria agreed, surprised by the appearance of a few butterflies in her stomach. “Lead the way.”

To Valeria’s utter confusion, Donatello didn’t move. He cocked his head and trained his eyes on a nearby storm drain grate. After a few moments, he shot her a dark look. “Did you hear that?” he whispered, harshly. 

“Hear what?” Valeria asked. She hadn’t heard a thing, but her entire body seemed to be breaking out in goosebumps. 

“Maybe it’s a coincidence, but someone on the street - I swear I heard them say your name.”

“That’s not funny, Don,” Valeria chastised. 

Don frowned. “I’m not kidding. Valeria is hardly a common name.”

“Could they have just been talking about malaria?” Val half-joked. Her turtle companion didn’t seem amused. “I have such a stupid name,” she murmured beneath her breath, looking at her feet. 

Valeria didn’t know whether to run away or to follow this lead. She looked to Don for guidance, but he seemed just as unsure as she felt. After a moment, he straightened up. “It sounded like they were headed back towards your hotel. We don’t need to confront anyone, but we should at least try to listen in, see if we can figure out what on earth went down tonight.”

Donatello began walking in the direction that she had run from. “This storm drain follows the road above,” he called back to her. 

Don offered her the arm that was not occupied by the duffel and staff. She gladly accepted, not just because it made her feel more secure, but because she’d already found out the hard way that there were a lot of trip hazards down here. 

Before long, Valeria noticed that Don was breathing almost as heavily as he had been on the phone. “You okay?” she asked. 

“Oh, I’m fine. Just a lung capacity issue,” Don dismissed. 

Valeria felt herself overcome with concern that maybe her friend was being disfigured by an inoperable tumor. “You… you aren’t sick, are you?” she fretted. Is that why he hadn’t made arrangements to see her while she was in the city? What if she had pulled him away from his sickbed? He had seemed very ill at Area 51. God, she was an idiot. 

Donatello cringed. “I’m not sick. I’ll explain later. Right now, I need to focus on listening.”

Donatello must have had some sort of turtle super senses because the only noises that Valeria could hear from the streets above were too muffled to be meaningful. After twenty minutes of walking, Don slowed and sidled up to a storm drain grate. He kept his head near the opening, just out of the sight of anyone on the street. Valeria followed suit and positioned herself on the other side. 

She could see that the street above was almost empty. But, someone was pacing near the grate. That could have been happening for any number of reasons, but Donatello seemed certain that this was important. She shrugged at him, hoping for a bit of insight. He ducked beneath the grate and whispered into her ear. 

“Black combat boots with a broken right shoelace. I saw them go by right after someone said your name earlier.”

The hair on the back of Valeria’s neck stood up. She didn’t know if it was from fear, Don’s breath in her ear, or both. 

“I lost her. I lost her,” the combat-booted man hissed. It was easy to guess that he was speaking into a cell phone. “No freakin’ clue,” he said after a pause. “You got yours?” The pacing stopped for a minute. “I’m in front of the store.” Another pause. “No. You come to me! I don’t care if you got yours. This is the meetup point, now you get to it, and we go for mine together!”

Valeria backed away from the grate. That was all she needed to hear. She retreated several feet deeper into the sewer. Donatello followed, his face etched with concern. He put his hands on her upper arms, stoking them comfortingly. 

“That’s one of the guys who was after me,” she confessed. “I’m sure of it.”

Despite the comfort he was offering her, Don looked ready to murder someone as he glared back in the direction of the street. 

“Can we just go to your place now?” Valeria begged. “You said that it’s safe there.”

“It sounds like they have your teammate,” Don worried. “The way they were talking-“

“Oh God,” Valeria moaned. “No, we have to stop them.”

“I can try,” Don promised. 

“No, I said ‘we,’” Valeria hissed. “It’s me and my team they were after. It’s my fight!”

“And that’s why you can’t get caught,” Don insisted. “You’re obviously close to something big here if they felt the need to take you guys out of commission so quickly. You’ve got to remain free and finish your work.”

“Same goes for you, Don,” Valeria reminded him. 

“EDS is almost done. Besides, I’m a ninja, remember?”

Valeria glared at him. He had a lot of audacity to break out a line like that. The effectiveness of her glare was compromised, as three new sets of feet appeared and stole both Don and Val’s attention. One of those sets of feet happened to be wearing hotel slippers. Valeria recognized the crest as that of the hotel she had been staying at. “Let me go!” their owner begged. 

Valeria grabbed Don’s bicep. “That’s Jeff!” He was her teammate - a hopelessly dorky, harmonica playing, BBQ-loving, soon-to-be grandpa. 

Donatello wasted no time. He pressed his phone into her hand. “If anything happens to me, call this number. She’ll know what to do. After you make the call, drop the phone and run.”

The name on the screen said “April.” Valeria wondered who that was. An unexpected pang of jealousy shot through her. She shook her head to dismiss it. Her mind quickly shifted gears as she realized that she was, for the second time that night, all alone in the sewer. 

Valeria had wanted to stop Don, or at the very least, wish him luck, but she was too late. He was gone, having scuttled up the ladder to a nearby manhole. She briefly saw a sliver of light as he squeezed his strangely misshapen body through it. When the manhole cover closed, it was completely silent. He’d obviously had years of practice with that. 

It was funny, watching the scene unfold from below. Don must have taken a circuitous route because his olive green feet appeared from a very different direction than Valeria had been expecting. His toes were spread wide, his footfalls completely silent. The men squabbled, apparently unaware of what was about to hit them. Don’s staff struck the ground, followed by an ‘oof.’

“What is that thing?” someone screamed. 

Valeria briefly saw Don’s feet again, before they both lifted off the ground. There was a cry of pain from above, not Don or Jeff’s, thank goodness. 

The combat boots stumbled by. Valeria could hear the sounds of bodies hitting one another. 

“Run!” Don panted. It didn’t seem to be aimed at her. 

Valeria lurched back as someone fell down next to the grate she was watching from. Her blood ran cold, but she wasn’t immediately spotted. The person awkwardly righted himself. For a moment, his face became visible. It was Jeff! He appeared to be in a panic and clearly hadn’t noticed her there. 

“Run!” Don begged once more. “Just go!”

Jeff made a strange noise and did as he was ordered. The sounds of the fight continued, but Valeria couldn’t see anything. She could hear the whistle of Donatello’s bo, and could only assume that he was holding the apparent kidnappers back to give Jeff time to escape. 

At one point, Don backpedaled into her line of vision. He dropped down onto one knee, doubled over in apparent pain. After a deep breath, he clambered back to his feet and scampered off. He grunted, and the body of one of the bad guys was flung into a signpost with a resounding metallic ‘ding.’

Someone else yelped and two sets of footsteps could be heard taking off at a run. Then, there was silence. Valeria’s heart rate picked up again. She wanted to check on Donatello, but she wasn’t ready to leave her hiding place yet. The moments stretched into minutes. She was considering calling April when someone tapped her shoulder. 

“Don!” He must have taken a different manhole to get back below ground! Valeria threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him so hard that he whimpered and fell back a step. She quickly let him go. Once the pain cleared from his face, he winked and put a finger in front of his mouth. There was still a slight risk of them being followed. Donatello offered her his arm, and they began the trek to his home.


	44. Chapter 44

Don ushered Valeria into his home. It was smaller than she expected, and emptier. “Your brothers aren’t home?” she asked. 

“They don’t live here,” Donatello explained. Valeria wanted to ask for details, but from the pained look that crossed the turtle’s face, she decided it would be best not to.

Don was eminently grateful to take off his tactical vest. He hadn't worn it in weeks and hadn’t ever anticipated getting as big as he was now. He’d thought that he’d sewn in more than enough elastic, but the joke was on him. Once the zipper was down, it snapped open almost violently. 

Don hung it up and put on a flannel shirt in its place. He rolled up the sleeves but left the front open to show the plain tee-shirt underneath. He felt that this combination of clothes made him look a little smaller, so it had become a go-to whenever people were around him. Usually, he wore it with plain slacks or joggers, but he didn’t bother changing out of the cargo pants he’d worn to get Valeria. 

It was a lot more comfortable being out of the tight vest. Apparently, his kids were happy too. They were rolling around and kicking up a storm, to the point that it was visible even through his support garment and tee-shirt. Don stayed turned to the wall and looked over his shoulder at Valeria. How was he going to explain this? “Make yourself at home,” he squeaked, buying himself a minute. 

Valeria took the opportunity to look around. Donatello’s apartment, if that’s what you could call it, was definitely a work in progress. The main door had been upgraded, secured, and expertly hidden. She hadn’t even noticed that it was there until Don stopped in front of it and worked some sort of magic to make it open up. It connected to a living room with a kitchenette off to the side. There was a fridge and an old stove. The cabinets and counters were hung at differing heights, as though Don had been working to adjust them. There was a battered old sink set in the counter, but a newer one was sitting nearby, ready to be installed. 

The living room itself had an old oversized sofa, and an extra-large, pillow-covered chair and ottoman. There was a homemade coffee table, as well as an end table with a lamp sitting on it. A television was hanging on the wall. There were no decorations, no pictures or rugs, but there were a few boxes and a large red mechanic’s toolbox. Valeria could see some doors, which must lead to the bedroom and bathroom. 

“I know it’s late, but are you hungry?” Don asked softly. 

Valeria turned to see that he was watching her. He seemed tentative and shy, as though he wasn’t used to company. She was sure that this was the case, but he hadn’t really ever acted that way around her before. “Not really. My adrenaline is still running high,” she answered. 

Don pulled some saltines and peanut butter out of the cupboard and set them out anyway. Valeria took it to mean that he still had problems with nausea like he had been experiencing at Area 51. Not wanting him to feel awkward, she joined him in nibbling on a few crackers. Don steeped some tea as well and made them each a cup. “It’s soothing, I promise,” he vowed. “I definitely still prefer coffee, but you get used to it.”

Valeria smiled. “Well, you are pretty smart. I’ll take your word for it.” 

The two sat in awkward silence for a while longer. It was funny, their chemistry had been so good before now. They had been quiet on the walk over, but she had assumed that it was just because of the fear of being tracked. 

“So, other than tonight’s excitement, how have you been?” Don asked. 

“I’ve been fine,” Valeria chuckled. “How about you?”

“I’ve been… busy. It’s been a little rough,” Don admitted. In truth, it had been very rough, but he wasn’t about to dump all of that on her. 

“I’m sorry,” Valeria replied. “But, it’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Donatello looked her in the eyes. “I’ve missed you too. Although these aren’t the circumstances that I would have hoped to see you under.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Valeria asked. “You already know my drama, after all.”

Don sighed. He really didn’t want to. If she didn’t think of him as a freak already, this was certainly going to do the trick. He looked at her sadly. “Do you really need me to say it? I mean, it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Don, are you… pregnant?”

“Bingo,” Don said with a decided air of moroseness. 

“Well, I guess that explains… a lot. So, who’s the father?” Valeria had hoped to sound casual. She thought that Donatello and his (her?) brothers were the only ones of their kind. The list of suspects was pretty short, and honestly, rather stomach-turning. But, Don was her friend and she wasn’t about to judge. 

Donatello looked horrified, nonetheless. “I am,” he said firmly. “Valeria, just to be perfectly clear, I am a dude.”

Valeria fumbled for words. “Oh, so are you-“

“Don’t look so surprised,” Don cut in. 

“I’m not!” Valeria shot back. “I always thought you were a male. I just don’t understand how you’re capable of conceiving and carrying a child if that’s the case.”

Don frowned. “I’m not really. Turns out that I was the unwitting victim of one of Bishop’s little side projects. None of this would be possible without his secret genetic experiments and involuntary surgical manipulation. I have to pump myself full of artificial hormones every day to keep it going.”

“Oh, Donatello… I’m…” she tried to read his face, “sorry?”

“Don’t be. I’ll be happy to have them. But now you understand why I needed to escape Area 51 so badly.”

“I always understood that,” Valeria assured him. “Even before all of this. You were a prisoner. I guess you were a test subject too.”

Don nodded sadly and didn’t say anything else. 

“So do you know when you’re due?” Valeria asked. 

“Not for another two months,” Don answered quietly. 

Valeria looked down at his very large belly. “Oh, Don. Are you sure about that?” She was trying to sound lighthearted and sympathetic, but it fell flat. 

“Yes,” Don answered bitterly. “It’s triplets. That’s why I’m so big. I’ve still got a ways to go.”

“Triplets, wow. That’s… that’s really something,” Valeria blathered. “Congratulations?”

“I’m still me, okay?” Don said with surprising passion. “I know that this is weird, but I’m still me.”

Valeria put her hand over his. “I know.”

“And, when you get right down to it, I’ve been in this condition for as long as we’ve known each other.”

“So Bishop did this to you right away?”

“My very first night. Apparently, it was a sort of a welcome gift.”

Valeria laughed. “Glad I didn’t get one.”

“Most people would settle for a nice fruit basket, but I suppose that Bishop always was the go-big-or-go-home type,” Don said, wryly. Valeria was happy to hear him sounding more like the Donatello that she knew and had grown so fond of.

Don stretched his arms above his head and his legs out beneath the table. It felt good to have gotten that talk out of the way. “So, tell me more about what your team was supposed to be doing in New York.”

Valeria cupped her mug a little tighter. “Well, as I told you before, we've been able to figure out that Hun’s goal is to recruit Triceraton sympathizers here on Earth. They’ll help suppress humans during the invasion, to cut down on Triceraton losses. In exchange, they’re supposed to be paid handsomely and given special privileges after the invasion.”

Don nodded. “Makes good tactical sense.”

“Hun is spearheading the operation, but his group isn’t the only one participating in this. There are similar groups in at least ten different major cities, and those are just the ones we know about,” Valeria continued. “Bishop wanted us to run surveillance, and see just how large this operation is. My job was to study the messages Hun was sending out, now that the transmitter that you partially dismantled is active again. We think it’s only for intergalactic communication, but it’s possible that it’s also being used to communicate with these other groups. It would explain why the government hadn’t been able to pick up on any of the chatter.”

“An operation this large is bound to get sloppy at some point,” Don opined. 

“I know,” Valeria agreed. “I think that they were starting to. After you disabled the transmitter, things sort of fell into disarray.”

“Go me,” Don boasted. “Or, more accurately, go Leo. I didn’t really want to raid the apartment.”

“I think it’s a good thing that you guys did. It set Hun’s recruitment efforts way back, which probably set the timeline for the invasion back as well.” 

Don gave a sad smile, then shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Leo’s a good leader. His instincts are usually dead on.”

“With the transmitter down, and Hun out of commission, they had to switch to more traditional means of communication. After you tipped us off, Bishop began tracking and intercepting the Purple Dragon’s email messages, since they’re known associates of Hun. One of them contained the code that Hun was using to encrypt his messages to the Triceraton. So, once the transmitter came back online, we were able to figure out what he was saying to them.”

“And that’s how you found out about the recruitment plans and the groups in other cities?” Don reasoned. 

“Yes, but that’s about all I found out. This mission was primarily supposed to be about scanning for shorter range transmissions between the different groups of sympathizers in other cities. Once that part of the job was complete, we were going to attempt to seize the equipment and send out that warning message that I told you about. Obviously, it never got that far. I’d barely even unpacked my own equipment when my hotel room was broken into. I mean, I’ve been here less than 24 hours, Don.”

Don hummed. “Sounds like they knew you were coming.”

Valeria nodded. “I know, and my teammates’ cell phones going dead makes this even more suspicious. It’s got to be an inside job, right?”

“It certainly seems that way,” Don agreed. 

“So what do I do?” Valeria asked helplessly. She may be smart and brave, but she was young, and she wasn’t a fully trained field operative. 

Don considered her question. “Did you set up an emergency rally point with your teammates?” 

“I did, but I don’t think that it would be safe to go there,” Valeria explained. 

“You’re right about that, but we could get some eyes on it, see who shows up,” Don recommended. 

“Maybe that would work,” Valeria considered. “At least I can be fairly certain that Jeff wasn’t involved. I hope that he ran straight to the police.”

“Can you send a message to Bishop?” Don asked. “He should probably know about all of this. Say what you will about that guy, he does put earth’s safety above all else. I’m sure he’d be quick to deal with someone betraying him to aid the enemy.”

Valeria perked up. “I can send him a secure email. I wrote the encryption program myself, so I’m sure that’s not compromised.”

Don used the table to help regain his feet. “Let me get my laptop fired up,” he offered. Valeria watched him lumber over to a makeshift desk in the corner, then limp back to the table, laptop now in hand. He booted it up and got her logged on, then sunk down into his battered old armchair. He was hurting badly, after all of the night’s antics, and he was beginning to suffer intermittent contractions. He had no choice but to rest for a while. 

Valeria sent her message directly to Bishop. Given the time of night, she doubted that he would answer right away. She logged off of her email but left the laptop open on the kitchen table. Then, she went to join Don. The turtle opened his tired eyes and gave her a kind smile. “You’re welcome to stay here until you hear back from Bishop. Or, I have some trusted friends that could help you out, if you’d be more comfortable above ground and amongst your own kind.”

“You are my kind,” Valeria replied. “I think I’d feel safer with you if it’s not putting you out.”

“I’d be happy to have you,” Don assured her. 

Valeria gave him a hug, then went to freshen up in the bathroom. When he had a moment to himself, Don texted April and asked her not to log into his security cameras or come over for the next few days. He didn’t mind her keeping tabs on him, but he didn’t want to have to explain why he had a lady friend in his apartment. April was mindful of his privacy and promised to stay offline as long as he texted regularly to let her know he was okay. Don promised to do just that. 

Despite the fact that they were both utterly exhausted, Valeria and Donatello spent hours catching up. Eventually, Val fell asleep on the sofa. Don slipped a pillow under her head and laid a blanket over her. He considered turning in himself but then decided to sleep in his armchair. He didn’t want his guest to wake up and forget where she was.

Don was up early the next morning, thanks to an intense bout of back pain coupled with a baby sitting on his bladder. He cooked a cheap but nutritious breakfast and even managed to secretly eat some of it before Val woke up. He was still sensitive about his appetite. He brewed a pot of coffee for her. He kept the good stuff around for April and Casey, even though he couldn’t drink it until after the babies were born. The smell was so tempting. He brewed some decaf for himself and took a long sip. 

“You’re not wearing your mask,” a sleepy voice piped up from the sofa. 

Don turned to Valeria, his fingers tracing a line where it should be. “No. I usually don’t sleep in it.”

“I would imagine not.” Valeria yawned. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you without it before.”

“Oh, well, this is what it looks like.” Don bashfully took another sip out of his mug. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t even remember falling asleep, honestly.”

Don chuckled. “Yeah. You were kind of in the middle of a sentence.” He left off the part about how cute he had found it. “Anyway, I made breakfast, and you should probably check in with Bishop.”

“I can’t eat right after waking up,” Valeria told him. “But is that coffee I smell?”

“Made some of the strong stuff just for you. I can’t drink it, though goodness knows I’d love to,” Don lamented. 

“I can take it off your hands,” Valeria offered.

Don grinned as he handed her a mug. It felt nice to have company.


	45. Chapter 45

Bishop instructed Valeria to lay low while he figured things out on his end. He promised to call her back to Area 51 as soon as he had gotten to the bottom of the situation. Jeff was under police protection for now, which was a load off of Valeria’s mind. Several other of her team members had also checked in with Area 51, but two were off the grid. 

So, it seemed that Don had a temporary houseguest. He found that he wasn’t sure how to act around her. Valeria wanted to be helpful since Don was in the middle of so many projects, but he insisted that she leave any chores and housework to him. He knew at least that much about being a good host. 

Problem was, there was nothing for Valeria to do. She was supposed to be in hiding, so she couldn’t go sightseeing. She had no phone; the TV wasn’t working yet. Don only had one computer, so only one of them could use it at a time. Don needed to use it for a few hours after breakfast since the build team had some urgent questions. 

Whether it was out of boredom, or genuine interest, Valeria watched over his shoulder. “You know, I only understand about half of what you do,” she piped up. 

“Really?” Don replied. “You always seem to know exactly what’s going on.”

“With astrophysics, coding, and that sort of stuff, sure. But all this inventing you do is mostly over my head,” Valeria marveled. “I can’t believe you’re self-taught.”

Don shifted positions and turned to face her. “I’m not entirely self-taught. I’ve been lucky enough to make some really smart friends, who’ve been generous enough to teach me a few things.”

Val noticed then how tired he looked. She knew he couldn’t have slept much. They’d stayed up really late last night, and he must have been up early in the morning to have gotten so much cooking done. “No offense, but you look exhausted. Are you sure that I’m not too much underfoot?” she asked. 

“You’re absolutely not. I am tired though. I’m all about naps these days.” Don put a hand on his middle, thoughtfully. “They’re all pretty calm right now. Maybe I should take advantage of that and try to sleep for a bit. It'll give you a turn on the computer.”

Don got up very slowly. He was being careful not to disturb the babies. If they started moving around too much, the odds of catching a nap would go straight out the window. Valeria thought he looked cute tiptoeing across the room, grasping his midsection to steady it. 

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Do you have any cravings?” 

Don paused in his tracks. “Hmmm?”

“Like pregnancy cravings? Is there anything you’ve been wanting?” Valeria clarified. 

“Oh. Well, sure. Mostly for stuff I can’t have, like sushi and junk food and real coffee. I’m trying to eat cheap and healthy, though.”

Valeria chuckled. “Decaf is real coffee.”

“No, it’s not,” Donatello insisted, wrinkling his face up in an adorable manner. 

“Well, what about achievable stuff then? Anything you’ve had a hankering for?”

“Why do you ask?” Don wondered. 

“I figured I’d start dinner while you’re napping,” Valeria answered. “I’d like to do something to thank you for helping me out and taking me in. Besides, we’ve got to eat, right? Might as well be something good.”

“My kitchen is pretty basic,” Don confessed. “I’m not the best chef. I was just going to bake some chicken and vegetables tonight.” It was Don’s go-to dinner, and he was darn sick of it. 

“I think I can risk a trip to the store. We know I wasn’t tracked here, so I’m sure it’d be safe for me to pop up to the surface for a few minutes. I could use some fresh clothes too.” Valeria looked at her dirty two-day-old outfit with dismay. 

Don thought about that. He knew he’d never be able to sleep with her on the surface. There was a nearby shopping center, though. “Why don’t we take a quick stroll? I can show you to a manhole that comes up in an alley next to a bodega.”

“I don’t want to put you out, Don,” Valeria fretted. “What about your nap?”

“No, it’s okay. I need to fit in some exercise today anyway,” Don reasoned. “I can rest afterward.”

Valeria was skeptical. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. Come on.” Don stood at the door and beckoned her. 

“I’m definitely treating you to a special dinner now,” Val promised. 

On the walk through the sewers, Don told her about a meal that Michelangelo had cooked years ago. It was a sort of a vegetable lasagna with cream sauce. Donatello had been the only one who liked it. Since everyone else thought that it was gross, Mikey had never cooked it again. Don had been disappointed at the time, but it hadn’t been that big of a big deal. Then, over the past few months, Don had been dying for another bite. He had no idea how to cook it, though. He had tried, but every attempt ended in disaster. 

Valeria thought that she could reproduce it easily enough. She purchased all of the ingredients, as well as an “I Love New York” tee-shirt and some other essentials. She safely returned to the sewer, to find Don waiting patiently for her. He was leaning hard against a wall, clutching his middle, and looking miserable, but at least he hadn’t been reduced to sitting down in the sewer filth. 

They walked back to his place, where he promptly laid down in his room. Valeria promised to let him watch her cook later, then spent some time catching up on her work.

Don really did try to sleep, but now the babies were awake again and moving around. At this point, they were so cramped for space that he could feel their shells grinding against his ribs. Nothing he did could convince them to calm down. He finally managed to doze off anyway, but twenty minutes later he was woken by a brutal leg cramp. As much as he hated to do it, he decided to give up on the nap entirely. Instead, he took a long hot shower to soothe his aching body. 

When he was done, he put on a white collared shirt. He could only close two of the buttons, but at least it kept the top looking neat. He tucked the bottom into the large elastic panel that he had sewn into his nicest pair of pants, which were charcoal grey. After that, he pulled on a dark purple sweater. It fit more snugly around his swollen middle than he would have liked, but he didn’t have a lot of nice clothes that fit him. He rolled up his cuffs a little, to show off the strong muscles in his forearms. He would’ve liked to complete the look with a pair of shoes, but he didn’t have any that fit right now, and even if he did, he couldn’t have bent over far enough to put them on. 

Don looked into the mirror and sighed. He knew that he was never particularly good-looking, but it’s not the type of thing that had ever bothered him. Right now, his reflection just looked off-the-charts weird, even to him. Still, it was the best he could do. Don hesitated before opening the door. He hoped that it didn’t look like he was trying too hard. 

Valeria was rooting through the fridge, pulling out the food she had purchased earlier. “Donatello, you look so handsome,” she complimented. 

“Thanks,” he quietly replied. “No one has ever been nice enough to cook something like this for me before, so I figured that I should try my best not to look like a slob.”

“You never look like a slob,” Valeria countered. She had showered too and changed into her new clothes. 

It turned out that Valeria was right about Michelangelo’s recipe being fairly easy to reproduce, at least for someone who knew their way around a kitchen. Valeria sautéed vegetables on the old stovetop: mushrooms, zucchini, squash, cauliflower, broccoli, and a little garlic. When the veggies were done she placed lasagna noodles in a pan, spread the veggies on top, and covered them with canned alfredo sauce. She made a second layer above the first, then sprinkled Italian cheese blend over the top. 

Donatello watched closely in the hopes of learning her techniques. He made a good sous chef, chopping up veggies with ease and getting the proper pans and utensils set out ahead of time. He had a bit of a hard time maneuvering around the kitchen, though. Valeria assumed that he must be going through a growth spurt because he was normally so effortlessly graceful, but there were a few times that he banged into the countertop, as well as numerous near misses. She caught him mumbling apologies to the babies under his breath, and thought that it was just about the cutest thing ever. 

When the lasagna was finished, they slid it into the oven. While Valeria was busy setting the timer, Don put one hand on the counter for balance and the other behind his lower shell. He scrunched his face up, and carefully bent backward to stretch his spasming back as best as he could. He was so sore, and he really didn’t want the embarrassment of having his back go out again while Valeria was here. 

Don pulled himself forward again when Valeria turned to look at him. “I think that something this savory calls for a sweet finish,” Valeria declared, “So, I figured that we could make brownie pudding. Ever heard of it?”

“No,” Don answered. “Is it just pudding with brownie bits in it? Because I could probably handle that.”

“It’s not that simple, but it’s quite easy to make. It comes out like a layer of extra moist brownies with a melty chocolate sauce below it. It’s really good, but you have to serve it warm.” Valeria showed Don how to put it together and they put it into the oven with the lasagna, which was smelling delicious by now. Don’s stomach growled embarrassingly loud when he saw it. 

“Glad you think it looks good.” Valeria laughed. 

Don was flustered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t get enough of food these days.” He’d cut way down on his food intake since she had been staying with him. She had been here almost a full day now, and at this point, he was starving. 

“The lasagna will be ready to come out of the oven in ten minutes, then we need to let it cool for another five or ten. Do you think that you can wait that long?” Valeria asked. 

“I’ll try,” Don promised. He started to wash the dishes, but Valeria had insisted on doing it herself. This was supposed to be a special thank you treat for him, after all. Donatello’s feet and back were absolutely killing him, so he agreed to go sit on the sofa until dinner was ready. 

The food turned out delicious. The lasagna was even better than Don remembered. He quickly scarfed down the first plate, then another. He was feeling very self-conscious about taking a third, after all of the teasings he had endured from his brothers. Valeria noticed him eyeing the pan, and served him a third helping herself. 

“Thank you. Lately, it feels like I’m never full,” Donatello explained. 

Valeria noticed his discomfort and tried to ease his mind. “I saw how little you were able to eat back at Area 51, and it didn’t seem like you were able to keep much down. I’m sure that you’re just making up for lost time. Making triplets must require a lot of fuel.” 

As if to confirm this theory, Don ate a fourth helping of lasagna, followed by three helpings of dessert. He felt like such a pig, but it was the best meal that he had ever had. Valeria seemed happy that he was enjoying it so much, so he pushed his bashfulness aside and just let himself savor being indulgent for once. After the third plate of brownie pudding, he realized he couldn’t eat another bite. It was the first time in months that his appetite had been completely sated. 

Valeria didn’t want to hurt Don’s feelings by saying anything, but she was surprised that his stomach was physically capable of holding so much food. It couldn’t have much room, given how much space the babies were obviously taking up. But he didn’t look like he felt sick. He looked relaxed and happy. 

Don definitely felt more weighed down than usual when he finally pushed himself out of his chair. He made some peppermint tea, to ensure that his stomach stayed settled, and he put on some coffee for Valeria. 

The conversation had flowed easily all night. They had competed over who did the better impression of Bishop and told stories about their childhoods. Don had told Valeria about various comical lab and cooking mishaps that he had suffered through the years. She told him about her father’s storytelling abilities and her mother’s art, as well as what it had been like living in the college dorms as a 16-year old. In turn, Don had told her about interplanetary and interdimensional travel that he had done at that same age. They avoided difficult topics, like family strife and heartache, alien invasions and Don’s impending fatherhood. They had a lot of laughs and felt so at-ease together. 

After dinner, the two sat side-by-side in the living room to look at the data that had recently come in from the satellite feeds. They worked together for a half-hour, but then Don couldn’t take the back pain anymore. He needed to take a little break from crouching over the laptop, so he slid the computer closer to Valeria and leaned back against the sofa cushions. The stomach full of rich food and the pleasant evening had made him feel so relaxed. He decided to rest his eyes for just a minute.


	46. Chapter 46

Valeria was dimly aware of Donatello shifting beside her. She turned to see that he had nodded off. She was sure that he hadn’t meant to, but he had looked so exhausted earlier that she couldn’t bear to wake him. Besides, he was so cute when he was asleep. Don had folded the blanket that she had used last night and placed it over the back of the sofa. Valeria grabbed it with one hand and spread it over her friend. 

Valeria continued working on the laptop, and the sleeping turtle kept inching closer and closer to her. Eventually, he was pressed into her side, with his head resting on her shoulder. She didn’t have the heart to move away, but she also couldn’t effectively work on the computer with only one free arm. Instead of attempting to continue, she leaned back and put an arm around Don’s shoulder. He nuzzled against her and made an unbearably sweet noise. 

Valeria would have thought that cuddling with the turtle would have been difficult, but It turned out to be easy. Her arm fit snugly on top of his shoulders, tucked against the inner lip of his shell. He had turned towards her slightly so that the hard edge of his carapace wasn’t jabbing her side. She knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, as he was clearly out like a light. It must have been some sort of instinct. 

With Don being as big as he was right now, a part of his belly had ended up sitting on her hip. Before long, whichever kid was there seemed to notice Valeria’s presence. She began receiving firm kicks to her side. They were hard enough that Don grunted in his sleep, although he didn’t wake up at all. She was surprised that he could sleep through something like that, but from the look of him, and what she had observed earlier, he probably wasn’t able to all that often. 

Valeria brushed her fingers across Don’s rounded side. “Hey, let your daddy sleep. I think he really needs it,” she whispered. 

Valeria was kicked right in the fingers, as if in response. “Hey! I told you to stop,” she giggled. 

The kicks just kept on coming. “Are you trying to get me to leave?” she asked quietly. “Because I was just sitting here minding my own business. It was you who invaded my turf.”

The baby must not have liked that, because Valeria caught her hardest kick yet. Don whimpered a little. He moved a hand as though reaching for the sore spot that was undoubtedly forming, but it fell back down in exhaustion prior to reaching its destination. 

Valeria was worried about waking Don, but at this point, she was even more worried about the baby waking him. She rubbed a gentle circle on the spot that was being abused. “Come on, stop,” she urged. “I’m no threat to you guys.”

At that, the kicking finally calmed down a little. “So you were just protecting your daddy, is that it?” Valeria wondered. Don was softly snoring on her shoulder now, but she didn’t mind. “How could I ever hurt him? He’s so charming.”

Valeria considered Don’s unconscious form. She hadn’t meant to say that. It had just come out. It was true, though. She did find him charming, and sweet. He was so smart and good-natured too. Now that she thought about it, he’d been through a ton of crap in the few short months that she had known him, but he’d always kept up such a strong front and managed to stay upbeat. Most people would have chewed someone’s head off by now if they had to deal with even a small fraction of the stuff that Donatello had to. But, he was always so kind, calm and generous. 

“You’ve got a really good daddy, you know. I hope that you do protect him.” Don sighed in contentment and slumped further against Valeria as if sensing her warm thoughts about him. “He deserves people to look after him.”

oOo 

When Donatello awoke, the first thing that he noticed was that he was snuggled up with something warm. It felt so nice that he just wanted to go back to sleep, but he had no idea where he was or what was happening. He moved a little and was greeted by the unfamiliar feeling of curly hair brushing against his face. He was mortified when he suddenly realized what must have happened. He lifted his head to see that he had pinned Valeria up against the side of the couch. 

“Oh… Oh my goodness, Valeria. I am so, so sorry.” Don tried to slide away, but the blanket and his oppressively heavy body slowed his movement. 

Valeria still had an arm across his shoulders and kept him from escaping. “Don’t apologize. I was happy to see you getting some rest.”

Donatello kept stammering. “I think… I think that I was just attracted, um, I mean drawn to your body heat. I am part reptile after all. I mean… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I know. You were clearly asleep. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“It’s just that I’ve had kind of a hard time regulating my body temperature lately,” Don over-explained. “Anyway, you’ve known me long enough to know that I wouldn’t have invaded your personal space on purpose, right?”

“I do know that, Don,” Valeria soothed. “You just put your head on my shoulder. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Okay, I just… I’m sorry.” Don shifted around so that he wasn’t pressing up against his companion as much. 

“That’s quite a weight that you’re carrying,” Valeria commented as she stretched her leg out. “And, I only got a small taste of it.”

“Sorry if I was crushing you. I didn’t mean to,” Don said quietly. 

“I told you to stop apologizing. I would have rolled you off of me if I needed to,” Valeria insisted. “Besides, it was nice to get a little bonding time with this one.” Valeria gave the spot that she had been talking to a gentle pat. Normally, she would’ve felt odd about touching Don so intimately, but she figured that it was okay, since it was him that had encroached on her personal space, to begin with. She also hoped that it would put him at ease a little. 

“Bonding time?” Don repeated, sounding utterly exhausted now that he wasn’t quite so frantic. 

“She was giving me a bit of a rough time at first, but we talked it out. I think that she was just trying to protect her dad.”

“Oh,” Don said quietly. He was acutely aware that Valeria was tracing gentle circles over a fresh sore spot on his battered and mercilessly stretched out plastron. It felt so nice, so right somehow. He wanted so badly to take her hand into his own. It felt like it would have been the easiest, most natural thing in the world. He thought that he detected something in her gaze as she stubbornly maintained eye contact with him, undoubtedly awaiting some sort of reply. 

Don dropped his own gaze to the floor. Until just now, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted a partner in all this; a real partner, not just a friend like April - someone to soothe his aches and pains and to chat with him and keep him company while he was stuck in bed. It had been so nice to cook together and share a meal, to doze off so effortlessly and to wake up in the comfort of someone’s arms. 

It seemed like an entirely selfish desire. Still, Don was pretty sure that he was generous by most people’s standards. All his life, he had put others first, rarely taking his own needs into account. Even though he desperately wanted to be taken care of now, he’d be happy to return the favor later on. He knew that he could be a good protector, and he certainly had the skills to be a good provider as well. He was sure that he was a good listener; everyone always told him so. He enjoyed making other people happy, and if he could ever find someone who saw him in a romantic light, he would work his hardest to be a good partner to them. 

But despite how Valeria had treated him to a nice night, and despite how nice it had felt to be near her, despite the look in her eyes as her fingers continued to gently caress him, he was pretty sure that Valeria didn’t see him as anything other than a highly unusual friend. How could she?

Donatello wanted to stay there on the sofa with her. He wanted to so badly, but he knew it wasn’t right. He was certain that she only wanted friendship with him. He knew that it wasn’t possible for her or anyone else to ever develop a romantic attraction towards him. Heck, his own brothers didn’t even love him, so how could anyone else? 

Given the strong feelings he had for her, he decided it would be best to step away before his heart could be irreparably damaged. He was only teasing himself with these fantasies of romance and partnership. And, once the babies were born, they would have to become the center of his world. He’d be busy raising three kids on his own and wouldn’t have any time to devote to anyone or anything else. 

“Seems that I can’t keep my eyes open.” Donatello yawned. “Guess I’d better turn in. Do you need anything before I go?”

Valeria looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. “No.”

Don failed in his first attempt to get up, but he succeeded in his second. He smiled at his friend as he handed her the blanket. “You know the drill. Just make yourself at home.”

Don waddled off to bed, then laid awake for a while. He hugged his wrap-around body pillow close and reminded himself of who and what he was, and why he could never have what he wanted.


	47. Chapter 47

After Donatello went to bed, Valeria worked online for a few hours, then turned off the computer. She hadn’t been prepared for the utter darkness of Don’s home. Sure, she had slept here last night too, but her kind host had stayed in the living room with her. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed the oppressive darkness then. Once she closed Don’s laptop, it enveloped her completely. It felt like a solid being that was smothering her. The only light was a dull reddish haze escaping from beneath Donatello’s door. She wondered what that haze could be. 

Don had told her to wake him if she needed anything. She hated to do that though. As much as he tried to hide it, she was sure that coming to her rescue and escorting her through the sewers had taken its toll on him. The turtle obviously needed his sleep, and probably some privacy too. Still, Valeria rose and crept forward, drawn to the light as if she was sleepwalking. 

Donatello had left the door ajar, in case she needed him. She pushed it open a few inches more, careful to be quiet. Her friend was sleeping peacefully amongst a nest of pillows. There were several blankets piled on top of him, but his head and one arm were sticking out. There was a large lamp angled over his bed, which was the source of the reddish haze. It looked like a jury-rigged heat lamp, a larger version of the type people used for pet lizards. 

She felt like she was intruding, but she couldn’t look away. The sight was fascinating. Donatello had always been so human in her mind, but his slumber had stripped all of those facets away. His warm and intelligent eyes were closed. The sweet and reassuring smile was nowhere to be seen on his sleep-slackened face. His gentle voice was quiet. His hands were still. The way the reddish light bounced off of his scaly skin and the cusp of his shell made it clear that he really did have the body of an animal. 

But looking further, the picture became more complex. This cozy bed with its fluffy pillows and blankets could have belonged to any person. His room was filled with projects in various states of completion - sketches, models, half-built furniture, and a crib that appeared freshly sanded. She could see dozens of thick books piled in one corner, the hallmark of an intelligent mind. 

Her eyes returned to his form. She had never allowed herself to look at him too closely - his snout and scaly green skin, the curve of his shell beneath the blankets. That body that was so animal-like, housed a heart and soul that were completely human. And truly, he was the best human that she knew, the most selfless and altruistic, the bravest, and surely the strongest. But he was forced to hide away, in a sewer of all places, all because of his mutated body, a body which was so beautiful and perfect in its own way. The sight of him warmed her heart, and there were times that she suspected he might return her affection. 

The turtle grimaced, letting out a pained but soft moan, and moved his hand to his swollen belly. 

And, there was the problem. 

Even if she were to get past the huge hurdles standing in the way of a potential romance - his need to hide away because of who he was, the physical differences, and the vast distance between them - she just couldn’t risk it not working out and then inadvertently hurting his children. 

They would be raised to know so few people. It would only be natural for them to get attached to her. If they attempted a romance and it ended badly, she’d have to leave them behind too. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t risk breaking everyone’s hearts. It was better to just be there for them all, to be a friend, first and foremost. Don seemed like he could really use a few more of those, and goodness knows that she could too. She was surprised how disappointing it was. She hadn’t even realized how badly she had wanted to take a shot with the sweet-natured genius. 

To Valeria’s horror, Donatello’s eyes flickered open. He blinked and then squinted, to be sure she was really there. “You okay?” he asked tiredly. 

“Yes. I’m… I’m sorry,” Valeria took a step closer. “Did I wake you?”

Donatello gave her a kind smile, the sweetness of which broke her heart. It was a smile that she wanted to see more often - one that he ought to be able to share with the world.

“No need to apologize,” Don answered sincerely. “I left the door open for a reason, and it wasn’t you that woke me.”

Valeria noticed that Don was rubbing his belly. “Your babies are playing around in there?”

“Something like that,” Don answered, growing embarrassed and stilling his hand. “What about you? Are you having a hard time sleeping? Do you need another pillow or something? As you can see, I’ve got plenty.”

Valeria smiled at his playful tone. “No. I think it’s just… I didn’t expect it to be so dark down here. Between that and knowing that I’m underground… I guess I’m just kind of weirded out.”

“Oh,” Don mouthed. “I guess that it does take some getting used to. Do you think that it would help to turn a light on?”

“No. I’m not scared of the dark or anything. Maybe it’s just everything that happened yesterday coming back to haunt me.”

“We could watch a movie,” Don suggested. The TV wasn’t working, yet, but his laptop was big enough. “Maybe you just need a distraction.”

Valeria shook her head. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“You won’t be. Once the little ones are up, I’m up too.” As if to head off any further arguments, Don rose from the bed and turned off the heat lamp. Valeria didn’t miss the pained grimace that he valiantly attempted to hide. But, his warm smile quickly returned. He gestured for her. “Come on. Let’s find something to watch.”

oOo

Don stayed in the living room with Valeria long after she fell asleep. It was just nice to have her company, even if she was silent. His babies were moving around so much that he wouldn’t have gotten any rest even if he went to bed. When morning approached, he ate some fruit and granola bars, then tiptoed to his bedroom to do some stretching exercises followed by some highly modified yoga. 

He’d had to drastically alter his exercise regimen due to back problems, but he still tried to do whatever he could. The yoga was important for balance, given his rapidly changing center of gravity. He did a lot of chin-ups these days too. It was just nice to take the weight off of his feet for a while. 

Don was happy to see that Valeria was still asleep when he emerged from his room an hour later. He brewed some coffee for her and scrambled some eggs. It was the sound of toast popping out of the toaster that finally woke Valeria up. It wasn’t a bad way to greet the day. 

“I cooked!” Don proudly announced, showing off a pan of eggs that were only slightly burned. 

Valeria smiled and got up from the sofa. “So you did.”

“Would you like some? I know you don't like to eat right away, but I made extra just in case. I’ve got fruit and yogurt and some other breakfasty type stuff too, if you’d prefer to wait until later.”

“That sounds better,” Valeria admitted. She stumbled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. 

Don ate all of the eggs and a few pieces of toast with ginger jam. He poured some tea into a stainless steel travel mug. “Do you want to take a walk with me?”

Valeria eyed Don warily. The poor guy looked ready to tip over, but she didn’t think that he’d appreciate her telling him about her concerns. Besides, she was sure that Don knew his own limits. 

“How long of a walk?” Valeria asked. “I like to start slow in the mornings.”

Don grinned. “Only two or three miles. I’m not much of a morning person either. I used to go for my runs in the evening, but it just wasn’t working out anymore. I swear these guys get heavier and heavier as the day goes on.” He gave his middle a loving pat while saying the last part.

Valeria lifted a hand. “Wait a minute. Is this a walk or a run? because those are two very different things.”

“How about a brisk walk?” Don proposed. He loved going for runs, but it was definitely getting more and more difficult to do so. After all of the excitement these past few days, and running on a couple of hours sleep again, a run didn’t sound at all appealing to him either. 

“You and I probably have different ideas of ‘brisk,’ but yeah, I’m game,” Valeria decided. 

“So, what’s it like being pregnant?” Valeria asked as they started walking, daring to address the issue that they had barely touched upon yesterday. 

“It’s…” Don was going to say that it was fine, like he always did. He was constantly trying to convince everyone that he was okay, even when he wasn't. If he had been more honest, maybe he could have avoided a lot of trouble and heartache. “It’s been pretty hard, to tell you the truth.”

“You seem like you’re handling things pretty well, considering that this can’t have been part of your life plan,” Valeria observed. 

Don shrugged. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Valeria smiled. “You always do. Don’t you?”

“I always try my best, at least,” Don confirmed. “But, there’s just so much that I can’t control. This process feels so strange to me, kind of like I’m in the passenger seat, but I don’t know who’s driving.”

“I guess that’s sort of a good way to describe life in general, isn’t it?” Valeria pondered. 

Don wondered if that was how his brothers felt. To expand upon the analogy, at least Don was within reach of the steering wheel right now. They were tied up in the back and helpless. There was nothing they could do if things went south. Maybe that’s why they had to jump out of the car entirely. Or, had Don pushed them out?

Valeria interrupted Don’s silent reverie. “Have you thought of any baby names?”

“Oh,” Don puffed as he snapped back to reality. “Um, only a couple. I don’t know if they’re girls or boys, so I need three of each.”

“I guess you’d better get on that,” Valeria chuckled.

“Guess so,” Don admitted. “Seems like a good project for when I start to slow down more. Right now I have so much else on my mind, and it’s such an important decision. I need to make sure that I get it right.”

“So, when is this slowing down thing going to happen?” Valeria asked as she cast a sidelong glance at her friend. 

“Soon, probably. I think that I’m getting pretty close to hitting my limits,” Don admitted. 

Valeria threw her arms wide. “And yet here we are!”

“This is going slow for me!” Don defended. “And as it is, I’m going to try and take a nap when we get back. I’m hoping that I can tire myself out enough to collapse from exhaustion despite whatever turmoil happens to be going on inside of me.”

“If last night is any indication, your kids do seem to enjoy keeping you awake,” Valeria sympathized. 

“They do, as do my back and hips, leg cramps and heartburn; not to mention my worries,” Don confided. 

“And yet you still came to my rescue at the drop of a hat,” Valeria pointed out. 

“You rescued yourself,” Don dismissed. “I just got you to a safe place.”

“Well, I just want to let you know how much I appreciate it. You’re a good guy, Don. A really good guy.” Valeria put a hand across his shell as they walked. 

Don looked at the ground to hide his reddening cheeks. He affectionately bumped into her side. “I think you’re pretty great too. Sooooo, uh, did you happen to hear back from Bishop yet?”

“Not yet.” Valeria sighed. “I’m guessing he’ll be in touch soon.”

“Please don’t say anything about me or the babies, okay?” Don begged. “I don’t need him sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“If that’s what you want,” Valeria promised. 

“It is,” Don confirmed.

Valeria quite enjoyed walking with Don. The sewers weren’t really all that unpleasant. Daylight was streaming in through the drainage grates, and stormwater was flowing like an underground river. Valeria picked up a pebble and flicked it in. 

“You can skip rocks,” Don observed. 

“Sure can,” Valeria smirked. “You’re not the only one who can keep a secret.”


	48. Chapter 48

After they finished their morning stroll, Valeria checked her email. “Bishop booked me on an afternoon flight,” she announced. “Ooooh, I even have an alias.”

“What is it?” Don wondered. 

“Violet Krej,” Valeria answered. “I’m sure the Violet thing is a dig at my hair, but he sure did pick a weird last name.”

Don thought for a moment, then let out a hearty laugh. “It’s jerk spelled backwards.” He grabbed his ribs and doubled over. 

Valeria chuckled too. “I guess he’s had enough of my nonsense.”

Don couldn’t stop laughing, even though it was irritating his ribs and getting the babies riled up. “Violet Krej. Who knew Bishop had a sense of humor?”

Valeria frowned. “Sit down before you hurt yourself. It’s not like my boss hating me is that funny.”

Don obliged, and his laughter gradually died down to a chuckle. He wiped his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you. You’re one of his ‘finest young minds,’ remember?” For the last part, Don did the Bishop-impression that they had been messing around with last night. 

“That was about 100 hair excuses ago.” Valeria dismissed. “Anyway, how long will it take me to get to LaGuardia?” 

“Forty-five minutes if you take the subway,” Don answered. “Not that I’ve ever been there myself.”

“I guess I’d better leave in an hour or so,” Valeria considered. She sat down on the sofa next to him. “I wasn’t expecting this to end so quickly.”

“Neither was I,” Don admitted. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to head home though. I was out of ideas for entertaining you anyway.”

“Yes, you do stink as a host,” Valeria chuckled. “Stuck underground with no way to see the sights, terrible cooking, no TV.”

Don exchanged a smile with her, just to make sure that she was kidding. “Keep your opinions to yourself, Krej.”

Valeria reached out and touched Don’s arm. “I feel sort of badly leaving you. Are you sure that you’re okay?”

Don smiled sadly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got friends looking out for me, my brothers too if things get dire. I’ll be alright.”

“Is it okay if I come and visit you again?” Valeria inquired. “I want to meet those babies of yours.”

“Of course it would be okay,” Don affirmed. 

Valeria showered and packed her clothes into a bag. They shared one final meal together, then set out in the general direction of LaGuardia. Don hadn’t planned to walk very far with her. He was going to lead her to a safe manhole, then give her directions to the nearest subway station, but separating from his friend was harder than he expected. He kept delaying and delaying, reasoning that walking was almost as fast as taking the subway, given how often it stopped, and how long loading and offloading passengers took. He aimed for a manhole near the next station, then the next. 

Finally, Don couldn’t delay it anymore. “Here we are,” he said. “This manhole will let you out right behind the station.” Don climbed the ladder and moved the lid like a proper gentleman. He came back down the ladder, panting for breath. “Coast is clear.”

Valeria looked at him sadly. She had known that he was delaying her departure when the walk had taken twice as long as he had predicted. Separating was going to be hard on her too. Despite the secrets that he kept, Donatello was still a very dear friend, and she was worried about his future. She threw her arms around him. “You take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Don promised. “Call me when you get home so that I know you’re safe.”

“I will,” Valeria promised in turn. She released him from the embrace, then pulled something out of her bag. She handed it to a curious Donatello. “This is for your babies, and on behalf of all of us at Area 51, thanks for all your hard work and dedication.”

Don opened the bag. Three stuffed animals were inside, all of them turtles. “I saw them in the bodega and couldn’t resist.” She put her hands on either side of Don’s protruding belly, silently saying goodbye to his children as well. 

Don was thankful that the darkness of the sewers hid that he was getting teared up. These were the first toys that his kids had received, and it was so nice that she was comfortable touching him, even when his own family had avoided it. He hugged her again. “Thanks. I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” Valeria said. She gave him a final squeeze, then steeled herself and resolutely climbed the ladder. She gave a tiny wave before closing the lid. 

Don bit his lip to keep from crying as her face disappeared and his world went dark once more. He had never felt as weighed down as he did on the long walk home. 

oOo

Donatello got a lot done in the next week. At his request, April and Casey came over every night after work to finish the kitchen remodel. They never asked why he had wanted them to stay off of the security system. Since they didn’t ask, Don didn’t tell. It would have been hard to describe without getting upset or emotional. In the long run, it didn’t matter anyway. Despite her request to visit someday, he doubted that he would ever see Valeria again. 

Doing so much manual labor was hard on Don at this stage. He got into the habit of taking nightly baths, often even eating in the tub. It soothed him enough that he could get at least a few hours of sleep afterward. He fixed the TV so that he would have something to watch during his lonely nights. 

During the day, he focused on the Earth Defense System. At this point, it was pretty much done, or at the very least it was at a point where Bishop’s crew at Area 51 could finish it without him if need be. This was good because Don was really slowing down. The winter always had this effect on the turtles, but this year was worse than ever. Don was so big and uncomfortable. He was exhausted and hurting all the time. Usually, he could soldier through that sort of thing, but since Valeria had left, he’d fallen into a state of perpetual melancholy that was only made worse by the hormones. 

Talking to Valeria on the phone only made him sadder. He kept the calls brief and impersonal. It was confusing to Val, but she chalked it up to Don being busy getting ready for the babies. Her calls became more infrequent, but she texted and emailed more to make up for it. 

One night, Donatello hit his breaking point. Thinking about how much he missed Valeria had made him realize that he missed his family so much more. He’d never expected romance with Val or anyone else, but he had expected that his lifetime would be spent together with his brothers. Now, when he needed them most, they weren’t there. They never even called. Don wondered what he had done that was so horrible. He wondered how he could still love and miss them as much as he did, given that they had abandoned him for no good reason. 

When he finally started crying, he couldn’t stop. 

He sobbed so hard that he feared he would break a rib. His back began to spasm. He was afraid to move his body at all, not even to get a desperately needed tissue. He just buried his face in one of the pillows and let it soak everything up. 

April looked in on him using the security camera. She couldn’t see where he was, but she could hear his cries. At first, she assumed it would blow over, but when an hour passed and it still didn’t, she closed her shop and started running. 

April raced towards Leatherhead’s old home at top speed, taking only seconds to deactivate the security system. She tore into the bedroom where she knew Don must be. The heart-rending noises ceased the moment he sensed her presence. “April?!” He gasped in surprise, “What are you doing here?” he rasped, as he struggled to move. 

April simply continued to run towards him, extending her arms as she did so. Don instinctively did the same, and they caught each other in a firm embrace. He immediately began to sob in her arms, his whole body shuddering. She maneuvered him closer as best she could, rubbing his shell as she did so. “What’s wrong, Don?” she soothed. 

“Everything. Everything’s wrong,” he moaned. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.” 

April’s concern made Don cry even harder. “I'm so scared, April. Everything hurts. I'm so lonely, and I don't know how to do any of this. My heart is broken.”

April knew it was true, so she just held him and let him release these feelings. “Why does life have to be so hard? I don't know what to do,” he wailed. “Why doesn't my family love me anymore? I need them so much!”

“They do love you, Don. I know that they do.”

“Then why aren’t they here?” Donatello demanded. “How could they leave me alone like this?”

“Sometimes the people who love us might do things that hurt us, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t love us at all,” April reasoned as best she could. 

Don didn’t respond, so she switched tactics. After all, who was she to guess what was going through the other turtles’ minds? She was beyond angry with them at this point. 

“I love you, Don. I love you,” she whispered over and over into his ear. Heavy as he was, she rocked him back and forth as best she could. ”We’re family too, you know,” she comforted. “Your babies will love you too. So many people love you.”

After a while, the sobs slowed, and she felt his body begin to relax against hers. Gently as she could, she eased him back into the pillows so that she could look at his face. She lightly massaged his shoulders, as he watched her through half-lidded eyes. 

April made Don eat and drink a little, and turned on his heat lamp. She then climbed into bed with him and held him until he fell asleep against her side. She texted Casey to let him know that she was spending the night. The two of them vowed to keep an even closer eye on Donatello. If they had to move in a little earlier than planned, so be it. There was no way that he could continue like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it got a bit sad again at the end. The next chapter is much sweeter, I promise.


	49. Chapter 49

The babies were viable now, as far as April and Don could tell. He was seven months along. A human baby born at this stage would have a fighting chance at survival. A turtle’s eggs would’ve long since hatched by now. Neither of these milestones necessarily pertained to Don, but they were promising nevertheless. 

More importantly, Don and April had observed the babies taking practice breaths during ultrasounds, and their lungs and hearts were looking well-developed. Despite how miserable he was feeling, Don was thrilled to have made it to this point. April was too, and she wanted to do something to celebrate. 

Between his estrangement from his family and his very limited number of friends, there was no way that Donatello was getting a baby shower. Even if attendance wasn’t an issue, Don was too embarrassed about his condition to want a party built around it. So, April racked her brains thinking of something special to do instead of a shower. 

Anything in public was out, since Don was a mutant. She decided that maybe she could take him up to the farm for a while, but she wanted it to be a surprise. This was difficult since Don never left his new home. Fortunately, he was exactly the type of guy who would bend over backward to help out a friend. 

April claimed that Casey’s mom had called and told him that the heating system at the farmhouse had stopped working. She said that Casey needed to stay in the city to work at the garage, but that the repairs needed to be made soon, in order to avoid any pipes bursting as the colder winter months set in. Sure enough, Don offered to take a look and see what he could do, so off they went. 

It was fall, and the countryside was beautiful. Don was relatively quiet, staring out the car window in awe. They had to make frequent bathroom stops and take a few carsickness breaks, but the ride was otherwise uneventful. Don nodded off a couple of times. April looked at her oblivious companion in amusement as she listened to his tools jiggle around in the back of her van. Little did he know that she had packed all of his favorite foods and movies, and planned to make this weekend all about him. 

April gently nudged her friend’s arm. “We’re here,” she whispered. 

Don inhaled sharply. “Did I fall asleep again?” he slurred. 

April nodded, then helped him out of the car. Don looked around, then pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt. “Beautiful here this time of year,” he observed. 

“Mmmhmm.” April unlocked the door and grabbed some of her bags while Don took some time to stretch. He followed a few minutes later with his own bags. He put them down and waddled straight to the thermostat. April smirked as he turned the dial and the old furnace clicked on. 

Don furrowed his brow and held his hand against the nearest radiator. “What did Casey’s mom say was wrong?”

April approached and hugged him from behind. “Nothing is wrong. It’s a Donnie weekend.”

Never one to pass up a hug, Don placed his arms over April’s. “Donnie weekend?” he repeated in confusion.

“Sure. It’s a weekend just for you,” April explained. “You’ve been trapped in the sewers for months now, and I figured that you would enjoy a change of scenery. We can do whatever you want up here.”

Don wracked his sluggish brain, but he failed to find a valid response. “Whatever I want to do?” he parroted. 

April chuckled. “I brought some movies and some books that I thought you might like. We can play cards, or board games, or sit and chat.”

“So, the furnace is fine?” Don wondered. 

“Do you want me to break it?” April asked.

“Noooo,” Don replied. “I just wasn’t expecting this. Let’s, uh, take a little stroll to stretch our legs?”

The walk was quiet for a bit, then Don said, “I’m not sure exactly what, or who, I’m supposed to be - what a Donnie weekend would look like.”

“I didn’t mean to put any sort of pressure on you,” April apologized. “I can take the lead if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” Don said quickly. “I just meant that so much has changed. I’m not really practicing ninjitsu. My brothers aren’t around. I’m not really focused on inventing, aside from fine-tuning EDS. Setting all that aside, maybe I’m feeling a little lost. So much has to be about these guys.” Don rubbed his protruding belly with both hands. 

“You shouldn’t forget yourself either,” April reminded him. “They’ll take up almost all your time at first, but once they get older they’ll be more independent. You’re going to want to do more of what you’ve always loved.”

“Are you suggesting that I break out some ninja moves right now? Because April, I don’t know…”

Don trailed off and April laughed. “Do you plan to keep practicing martial arts?”

“Yeah,” Don said quickly. “I need to protect my kids. I’ll teach them too. Self-defense is important to creatures like us.”

April and Don gathered some fruit for the house, then walked back. They cooked dinner together, and April insisted on cleaning up by herself afterward. After drying her final dish, she went to find her friend. As she had hoped, he had finally begun to relax. 

Don was sitting on the porch swing, shell cell in hand. He was wearing a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, along with slippers and a fluffy bathrobe that didn’t stand a chance of properly closing. Despite the crisp night air, he looked comfortable and cozy. April amplified this effect by handing him a steaming mug of hot cocoa. “Sorry it’s not coffee,” she apologized. 

Donatello gave her a genuine smile. “Oh, it’ll do nicely, thanks.” Don wrapped both hands around it. “Hey, you even added marshmallow fluff.”

“Oh, I spared no expense.” April winked as she lifted Don’s feet and slid beneath them, cradling his swollen ankles in her lap. “So what are you doing out here?” she asked as she began lazily rocking the swing. 

“Just enjoying the night air and thinking,” Don replied as he lowered his phone and lifted his gaze to the stars. 

“About what?” April encouraged. 

Donatello looked her in the eyes. “If I tell you, will you promise not to laugh?”

“Of course,” April promised. 

Donatello reddened a little. “Well, there’s this girl-“

“What!” April blurted. 

“Hey!” Don exclaimed. 

“I didn’t laugh!” April defended. “I was just surprised.”

Donatello relaxed a bit. “Just hear me out. So, there’s this girl that I met at Area 51, and she was really smart and nice and easy to talk to, and I found myself becoming really attracted to her. After I found out that, well… that I was… you know…” He gestured at his belly. “I just thought it was the hormones playing tricks on me. But I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. It’s unrequited, of course, but the thing is, I think she wants to be friends. She’s been texting me-“

April frowned. She knew how difficult it was to connect to the turtles’ phone network. “How?”

“I gave her my shell cell in case of emergency. And it’s a good thing too because I had to help her out of a jam recently,” Don explained. 

“So, she knows about this?” April vaguely indicated Don’s loosely bundled middle. 

Don placed a hand over himself, still mildly uneasy at any open acknowledgment of his condition, even by April. “Yes, and she’s been really sweet. She cooked for me as a thank you, and she gave me some stuff for the babies. She’s been asking how I’m doing.”

“She’s been to your place?!” April blurted. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this, Don?!”

“I didn’t want you and Casey to have to keep the secret from my brothers,” Don quietly confessed. “They’d say she was spying on me for Bishop, and that I was stupid for trying to help, but she wouldn’t do that to me! I just know it.”

April ran a hand over the swollen legs resting on her lap. “Oh, Don.”

Donatello’s eyes were bright with emotion. “I’m just wondering if I should tell her how I feel. Of course, I know she’d never feel the same way, and there are so many reasons that we couldn’t be together anyway. I just wonder if it would make her feel good to know? She’s kind of an outsider too. Her parents were killed during the invasion, and she skipped ahead in school and had trouble making friends because her intelligence sort of isolated her. I can just relate to her on so many levels. We’re a lot alike, and if roles were reversed, I’d want to know how she felt. I’d want to know if someone cared about me like that, especially since there are so few people out there that care at all, even in a non-romantic way.”

Donatello searched April for an answer, but she didn’t offer one. He took a deep breath and continued. “But I’m scared to make things awkward. I wouldn’t want her to mistakenly think that I expect something from her, because I know that no one ever could care about me in that way, especially not now. Believe me, I know. But, it would be nice to tell someone, just once. I never thought I’d ever have this sort of chance. I’m not prone to romantic feelings, but at this point, I’m sure it’s not the hormones. It’s something much more.”

April disagreed with a lot of what she had just heard. But rather than argue, she cut straight to the juicy stuff. “You say she texts you? Can I see?” 

Don’s phone was full of little interchanges - Him checking in on her safety, her asking how he was feeling, him asking about the latest satellite feeds, her asking about his research. Their relationship seemed sweet, playful, and mutually respectful, but not particularly romantic. April handed the phone back to Don. 

He put it into his pocket, wincing as he moved. “The only relationship I’ve ever had that was even slightly approaching romance was with Jhanna, and all I have to show for that is old hair.”

April chuckled. “What did that mean anyway?”

“Darned if I know,” Don confessed. “Maybe we're married on her planet. My kids might have two parents after all!”

April played along. “Depends on what you did with the hair. If you threw it out, it might mean you’re divorced.”

Don shook his head. “I never threw it out. In fact, I found it when I was cleaning out my old bedroom at the Lair to make room for baby stuff. After I found it, I hid it under Raph’s bed.”

“Seriously?” April chuckled. 

“Yeah! I figured it would make him laugh or gross him out then make him mad. Then, after I left, I figured it would give him a reason to call.” With that, Don’s mood went from lighthearted to melancholy in one fell swoop. 

April put her hand on his knee. “I’m sure he hasn’t found it yet. Raph has never been the cleanly type.”

“No,” Don considered. “He’s not. But anyway, back to the matter at hand. Do you think that I should tell Valeria how I feel?”

April took a while to think. Don was always so tight-lipped about his feelings. She had always assumed that he just wasn’t the romantic type. But, now that she thought about it, she remembered times that cracks may have formed in the protective wall that he had carefully built around his heart. She remembered one time after he had pulled yet another miracle out of his pocket, she had proclaimed that she could have kissed him. His response had been a stuttered “r-really?” as though he couldn’t believe that anyone might consider that. That moment had stuck in her mind, but she was always afraid to examine it too deeply. He had sounded so surprised, so hopeful. 

Then there were the few times that she had kissed him, only in a friendly manner, on the cheek. He always blushed. He always broke out in a massive grin. He usually looked at his feet. She chalked it up to shyness but were times that she suspected that he could possibly have a little crush on her. If he did, he never brought it up, and she had known better than to address it. She didn’t want to break his heart. He was too young, too inexperienced. For his part, he seemed to know that it never would have worked out. And, it definitely wouldn’t have. Not with her, anyway. 

Valeria was not April, though. She was more age-appropriate, and it sounded like she had confessed a lot of personal things to Don. The two obviously cared about one another, but still. “I’ve never met her,” April finally replied. “Who am I to know what she might want or how she might react?”

Don slumped. “I know. I guess that question wasn’t fair.”

“No. I was just saying that I can’t speak to what’s in her heart. But, I do know a lot about yours, and you’ve got a good one.” April smiled. “All that stuff you said a few minutes ago, about how no one could ever care about you - nothing could be further from the truth, Don. You’ve got so much to offer. You’re really special. She seems to know that too. I don’t think that it would hurt to tell her how you feel.”

The turtle perked up again. “Really?”

“Really. Just don’t be too aggressive. Tell her what you think makes her special. Don’t push too hard. Make sure she knows that you don’t expect anything from her. If she tries to cut you off and stop you from talking, just drop it entirely and don’t go back unless she leads you there.”

“That sounds about right,” Don replied. “If I do say something, I’ll make it very clear that I’m not looking for a relationship or anything else in return from her.”

“Why aren’t you?” April asked. “If she does return your feelings, that is?”

Don began to move the hand that was resting on his belly up and down. “I suspect that I’ll be pouring so much of myself into these little guys that there won’t be anything left to give to someone else. Not to mention all the other obstacles. She’s in Nevada, and I’m in New York. I have to live in hiding. Can’t take her out to dinner and a movie, or to a museum or show. Even a walk during daylight hours would be difficult.”

“You might be surprised how little all of that matters if she cares about you.”

“I don’t think she does.” Don indicated his mutated and very pregnant body. “I mean look at me.”

“Give yourself some credit, Donatello. Your personality is awesome, and you’re really kind of cute,” April complimented. 

Don scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“Really! You have a great smile, nice eyes, most guys would kill to have muscles like yours.” April paused. “And your shell has these cool swirly patterns. It’s nice and shiny.”

Don chuckled. “Are you just telling me what you think I want to hear because it’s Donatello weekend?”

“I’m telling you this because it’s true. You and I both know that looks don’t really matter. But even if they did, you’re far from repulsive. Don’t use it as an excuse to close yourself off,” April advised. “Besides, I don’t think that you’re the type of guy who’d be attracted to someone so shallow that she couldn’t see past your exterior.”

“True,” Don conceded. “It’s not as though she’s been afraid to be near me or anything. She’s even hugged me, touched my arm, stuff like that.”

April nodded. “Those are good signs.”

Don made a thoughtful noise, then gazed deep into the night sky. “Maybe I will tell her then. Finding out that someone cares about you could only make you feel good, right? Besides, as much as we dance around the subject, there’s always the possibility that I won’t even be here in a few months. Why take something like this with me to the grave?”

“Way to go dark on me, Donatello,” April complained. 

“It’s something that I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,” Don persisted. “I don’t have blinders on about any of this. I do know how risky it is. I know that you know the risks as well, and if the worst should happen, I want you to promise me that you won’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Donatello,” April interjected. 

“Really. I know that you said you were up for this, but if you change your mind, just say the word. I’ll go off-planet. Heck, Leo would love that.”

“It’s okay, Don. I haven’t changed my mind. I have faith in the plan that you and I have put together, but I know the risks too,” April pledged. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you, but if the worst should happen, I won’t let it destroy me or anything.”

“I just feel so guilty sometimes,” Don lamented. “I’d like to think that the consequences of my decisions are only my own, but I know that they affect other people too - you, my family.”

“I’ll be okay,” April promised. “I mean, I hate to think about it, but I’ll be okay. I do wonder, though, if the babies live, but I can’t save you, what do you want me to do with them?”

Don’s voice broke a little. “I think that my brothers should decide. Even after everything that’s happened, they might want that last part of me that I’m leaving behind in this world.” 

“I’d take them in, you know,” April said. 

Don smiled through tears. “I know.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s a huge commitment. You’d have to keep them hidden, pretty much give up your life. And I do think my brothers might want them. If not, and if you don't feel like you could handle them, there's always Usagi’s planet.”

“Okay,” April said quietly. She and Casey wanted kids someday. She did worry that it would be an awfully big burden on her children to have to keep secrets about the turtles. That burden would be even bigger if some of those turtles were adoptive siblings. 

“Just promise me that you won’t let Bishop get his hands on them,” Don requested. 

“I won’t,” April promised. “Let’s just drop this. It’s an awfully heavy subject for Donatello weekend.”

oOo

As usual, Donatello didn’t sleep well that night. He was up before sunrise the next morning and did some yoga and chin-ups in the front yard. April slept in. When she went to make breakfast, she saw him from the kitchen window. At the time, he was doing some very slow forward and backward walkovers. He looked silly, as big as he was and still moving like that. She had to hand it to him, though, he looked pretty capable out there. 

Despite his athletic prowess, he didn’t bother to hide his pronounced waddle when he returned to the farmhouse. “Morning,” he greeted. 

“Morning. Been up a while?” April asked. 

Don settled heavily into a chair. “Long enough. It was productive, though. I figured out a baby name.”

April stood up straighter. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“Not yet,” Don teased, “but, I think you’ll approve.”

April and Don both enjoyed the weekend. The fresh air, sunshine, and heart-to-heart conversations had done a world of good for Don. April was just happy that her friend was feeling better. 

Casey had painted Don’s apartment, as a surprise. It had been a dingy grey, and Casey had put a coat of off-white all over. “You can choose the final colors,” Casey offered when Don and April entered. “This is just a primer.”

Casey was taken aback when Don threw his arms around him. “I love it. So much brighter than before. Thank you!”

Casey scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, you’re welcome. Had a good weekend then?” 

“The best, but I missed my bathtub and I’m sure that your wife has had about enough of me. See you tomorrow night?”

“Uh okay. Glad you like the walls,” Casey replied. April grinned at him and shrugged. To her, Don just seemed happy to be home. She was glad that he was starting to think of this place that way.


	50. Chapter 50

With the painting done, Donatello spent the next few weeks focusing on baby stuff. He reconfigured his bed to a standard king-size, then finished building all three cribs and arranged them in his room. With his smaller bed, there was still plenty of space for a large dresser. He sanded and painted wood stain onto everything. 

Knowing that his kids would spend their formative years cooped up in this small space, he tried to add as many artful touches as possible. Each crib had carved scenes from nature on their headboards, and he painted an intricate turtle pond surrounded by trees on the dresser. He worked extra hours at his IT job to purchase soft goods, material to make customized cloth diapers, and baby food ingredients. A changing table was set out in the living room and would be his next project. 

Donatello woke up one morning to find that he was gagging on stomach acid. This was an increasingly frequent occurrence. If he slept lying down, his acid reflux was nearly unbearable. If he slept sitting up in a chair, it was hell on his back. He pounded on his chest and fought down the acid. Once that crisis was averted, he realized that he was also desperately needing the bathroom. Getting up was such an ordeal. He grunted and groaned as his back popped and legs cramped. When he finally gained his footing, it was nearing an emergency. He hustled to the bathroom, did his business, then puked his brains out. 

“Off to a great start today,” he mumbled. He tried to eat breakfast, but it didn’t want to stay down. Instead, he made a smoothie, hoping that he’d have better luck with liquids. 

He moved onto exercises, but only lasted a half-hour. His belly was getting too big to do even the simple stuff. He was off-balance during yoga and didn’t want to risk a fall. He took a shower and called Valeria, which raised his spirits. He still hadn’t told her how he felt about her, but he had started calling more, and he tried to drop hints in his own awkward way. She didn’t seem to notice, just as Don didn’t notice that she was doing the exact same thing to him. 

After lunch, Don sanded the changing table. The babies weren’t enjoying the vigorous movement required to get that job done. “Get out of my ribs,” he ordered the feisty one on the left side. When the only response was a hard kick that made him cry out in pain, he waddled to the sofa and sat down. “You better watch yourself or I’m going to give you a name you’ll hate, like Egbert, or Dorcas,” he warned. 

Don pressed his plastron, and the baby moved, but the squirming around in his stomach was worsening his reflux and making him nauseous. “Seriously, I can’t take this today,” he groused. He painfully took to his feet and lost his lunch. All of the heaving forced the baby back into his aching ribs again. Don could’ve cried. On the way back to the sofa, he grabbed a chair from the kitchen table. He sat on the edge of his sofa and leaned the top of his body against the back of the chair. He successfully managed to massage the baby out of his ribs once more. 

Finally, he sat back and sighed. “Sorry if I’m in a bad mood. It's really not your fault. You guys are just getting so big,” he said to his stomach. “But, that’s good. It’s your only job right now.” Don ran a hand down his face. “And, you’re doing it well.”

When April and Casey came over that night, Don’s rib was aching even worse. They decided to run an ultrasound. Sure enough, there was a crack in the lower rib on his left side. Don wasn’t surprised. He was just happy that it wasn’t a complete break. He and April both knew that there was nothing he could do other than rest it. 

As usual, they checked on the babies too. “They really are getting big,” April marveled. “No wonder your poor ribs are starting to give out.”

“I know,” Don groaned. “I’m afraid that my back won’t be too far behind them.”

“We could consider doing your surgery soon,” April offered. “Getting triplets into the eighth month is pretty impressive, and they seem big and strong enough.”

“No, it’s okay,” Don insisted. “I’m just being a baby. We’ll keep an eye on the rib.”

“Sounds good,” April replied. “Just remember that the surgery is a possibility at any time now.”

“I want to carry them for as long as possible, give them the best shot at survival.” Don cleaned himself off as April put away the machine. 

April helped her friend up, being careful of his tender side. “I know that you want to avoid surgery if you can. Even with the babies getting bigger, it does still look like they could still squeeze through when the time comes.”

“I hope so,” Don replied. “This process is wearing me down enough as it is. Recovering from surgery would be awfully difficult, especially with triplets to take care of on top of everything else. Avoiding surgery would be easier on you too.”

“I’m certainly not looking forward to cutting into you,” April agreed. “But I don’t want you to suffer unnecessarily either. I’m definitely more worried about you than the babies at this point.”

“I’ll be okay,” Don comforted her. “I’m just feeling a little whiny today, but I’m still muddling through. The rib is nothing critical. It’ll heal up in time.”

“Have you still been having periodic contractions?” April asked. 

“Yes. I think that’s good, though. For a while, I’d been worried that I wouldn’t be able to go into labor, but I think that they prove that I can. And, if they get too intense, I just take it as a sign to relax for a while.”

“Have they been getting stronger?” April followed up. 

“Don’t know,” Don answered. “They certainly hurt my back more, but that could just be because of its ongoing deterioration.”

oOo

The damaged rib meant that Don had to sit a lot more. He hated lounging around and doing nothing. He never had been good at relaxing, but at this point, his belly was so big that he couldn’t even use the computer properly. It simply didn’t fit on his lap anymore. When he got really desperate, he could set it on the kitchen table, but leaning over it for more than a half an hour or so was too much strain on his ribs and back. 

Valeria knew his limitations, so she dealt with most of the remaining Triceraton issues on her own. Bishop had identified a few more groups that were similar to Hun’s. He’d promised that they would suffer severely for their crimes against humanity, but for now, he was just biding his time. He had also ferreted out the mole on his team, who had tipped the Triceraton sympathizers off about Valeria’s operation in New York. The guilty party had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone at Area 51 was afraid to talk about it. 

One bright spot was the launch of the first Earth Defense System component. Valeria had given Donatello a personal play-by-play. He’d been so proud, even though he hoped that it would never have to be used. 

He was in a state of perpetual agony. His back was going out on a regular basis, and he sometimes needed help getting up and moving around. April and Casey had started working opposite shifts so that he didn’t need to be alone so much. He felt terrible about putting his friends through that, but he agreed that he needed the help. 

He really wanted the babies to come. He was so over being pregnant. He continued to refuse the surgery, but he prayed every morning that this would be the day that he went into labor. When he lay alone in bed at night, he begged the babies to cut him a break and make their appearance. Everything was just so hard right now. Even breathing was hard right now. His lungs barely had room to fully inflate. 

More than anything, he missed his brothers. All his life, they had been there for him. He needed them so much now, but they were nowhere to be found. 

April’s sister, Robin, traveled to the City over Thanksgiving and spent the 4-day weekend at April and Casey’s apartment. This left Casey to tend to a very pregnant Donatello all on his own since it was harder for April to sneak away unnoticed. It was a little awkward since Casey and Don weren’t exactly close, and Casey was still pretty creeped out by Don’s condition. 

Casey might not be a genius, but even to him, it was painfully obvious that Donatello was depressed. Casey had brought down a huge platter of turkey with all the trimmings since April hated the idea of Don eating alone on a holiday. Despite his previously voracious appetite, Don only picked at it. After that, they sat and watched a football game, but Don’s eyes glazed over and he barely said a word. 

Casey scratched his shoulder uncomfortably. “So, I guess you’re due any day, now, huh?”

“Huh?” Don shook the cobwebs out of his head. “Oh, uh yeah. Any time now.”

“Not like, now, though, right?” Casey teased. 

“No. Not now,” Don answered. “But hopefully not too much longer. Feels like I’m falling apart.”

“Oh jeez,” Casey said out of the corner of his mouth. “Listen, I know that April is real good about rubbing your back and talking to ya and whatever. Maybe I ain’t so good at that stuff but I’m here for ya. Ya know?”

Don lifted his head and looked at his friend. “I do know, Casey. And thanks for that. Not many people are.” Don heaved a sigh and even smiled a little. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t particularly want you to rub my back.”

Casey chuckled. “Good.”

The two sat on slightly more companionable silence for a while. “It’s okay if you want to go home,” Don said. “I think you fulfilled your duty.”

“My home ain’t so great right now, with Robin there. She and April tend to get a little chatty.”

Don looked at his hands. “Do you ever… think about visiting my brothers?”

“No,” Casey fervently replied. “April and I picked our side. The way they’re treating you ain’t right.”

“Why do I still miss them, then?” Don asked. He got a little choked up and clasped his midsection to comfort himself. “I wonder what they’re doing right now. Do you think they all sat down to Thanksgiving dinner without me?”

At that, Casey did reach out and put a hand on his friend’s shell. Surprised by the unexpected show of affection, Donnie made a strangled noise that Casey was pretty sure was a choked-down sob. Casey was brave enough to keep his hand where it was, but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and mutter, “Jeez, Donnie, you are absolutely killing me right now.” 

Donatello cleared his throat and produced a raspy chuckle. Bittersweet though life may be, he did have a lot to be thankful for. Casey Jones absolutely fell into that category. So, Don pushed his emotions aside, to thank his friend the best way he knew how. He turned up the volume on the TV. “Go Lions, right? Who doesn’t love an underdog?”

“Right on, Donnie,” Casey approved. “Go Lions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of Donnie’s brothers shows up in the next chapter. Does anyone want to guess which one it is?


	51. Chapter 51

Michelangelo hadn't been aiming for Donatello’s place when he left for an evening run, but somehow his heart and his feet took him there anyway. He slowed as he neared the sewer runoff that led to Leatherhead’s old place. Mikey was drawn forward as though hypnotized. He gave his next movements almost no forethought whatsoever. 

He used the old security code to turn off the alarm system and open the hidden doorway. Soon, he was standing at the foot of his brother’s bed, his presence having gone completely unnoticed. Casey was hovering over Don, busy arranging a multitude of pillows. 

“Donnie?” Mikey whispered, almost reverently. Donatello gasped and immediately began groping for the blankets. He managed to blindly locate the corner of one and pulled it up to hide his middle, clutching it desperately to his chest like a shield. 

“What're you doing here, Mikey?” Casey growled as he rose to his feet. He grabbed a pillow that he had previously been attempting to tuck beneath Don’s shell and hurled it as hard as he could at Michelangelo’s head. It may have only been a pillow, but there was murder in Casey’s glare. 

Michelangelo ducked his head and knocked it out of the air. “I was out for a run and, well, I ended up here,” he weakly explained. “How… how are you, Don?”

“Let me field that one for ya,” Casey roared. “He's in agony like he has been for months now, as if any of you guys could be bothered to care!” 

Donatello side-eyed his friend. That’s not exactly how he would have chosen to phrase things, but it was awfully nice to have Casey stick up for him. 

“I do care,” Michelangelo defended. 

“Yeah, well ya got some way of showing it,” Casey growled. “It’s April and me here with him every day. You guys are nowhere to be found! God, and to think I used to be jealous of how close you all were. You abandoned your brother when he needed you most!”

“Stop it, please,” Don yelled in a broken voice. “Mikey, why did you come here? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Michelangelo answered, feeling guilty as sin that Don’s first thoughts were that his help must be needed at home. “I know that the babies are due any day now, and we haven't heard from you in a while. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

With that, Don’s demeanor completely changed. “Well, you have your answer because clearly, I'm not,” he hissed. “I haven't been anywhere near alright since this whole thing began.”

“Don,” Mikey started. 

“It's okay, Mikey, you can just go. You don't even have to feel bad about it because, hey, at least you showed up eventually, unlike Leo and Raph.” Don attempted to turn over dismissively, but he couldn't handle his own weight. He screamed out as something gave way in his back. 

“Donnie!” Casey and Mikey cried as Don writhed in anguish. Casey leaped away from the bed and ran for the kitchen, almost stumbling over Michelangelo on his way out the door. 

“Move it, shell for brains!” Casey yelled, making sure to body-check Michelangelo into the door frame as hard as he could. Mikey shook it off and took advantage of Casey’s momentary absence to approach Don and place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Where does it hurt, bro?” Mikey implored.

“Everywhere, you dolt,” Donatello snapped. “Look at me! This isn't close to natural. Everywhere hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my damn heart that you guys broke! So why don't you just go back to the Lair and leave me in the hands of my real family? I'm sure you'll forget about all of this on the walk home.” Don tried to squirm to the far side of the bed, then cried out in pain again. 

“Stop thrashing! You're only making it worse,” Michelangelo begged as he applied pressure to Don’s shoulder in an attempt to corral him. 

“What do you care?” Don spat. “It’s only me that’s suffering. Might as well turn a blind eye to it like you always do!”

“I do care! Quit saying that I don't!” Michelangelo quickly climbed onto the bed, carefully pulling a writhing Donatello into a close hold. “I love you, Donnie. I should've come here sooner. You have no reason to forgive me, but you should know that I’m sorry.”

Donatello stopped attempting to escape, partially due to his throbbing back, and partially due to sheer shock at what was going on. Casey walked in on the scene with some heating pads and other supplies. He looked at the pregnant turtle for guidance. “Do ya want me to get rid of him, Donnie?”

Donatello thought about it for a moment. A large part of him wanted to continue venting his anger at Michelangelo. He knew that he had every right to, but he suddenly found that he didn’t have it in him at the moment. Even if he did, what good would further cruelty do?

“No,” Don relented, shrinking down to the bed with a tired sigh. “Thanks, but I think I'd like to speak to Michelangelo in private for a while if you don't mind.”

“Course not, I'll be on the couch. Just holler if you need me.” Casey meaningfully handed the box to Mikey and spoke quietly, “He’s really tired. Don't keep him up too long. And, if you do anything to hurt him any worse than you already have, I’m going to kick your shell from here till next Tuesday.” With that, Casey left the two brothers alone. 

Michelangelo looked down at Donatello, who was still panting heavily from his struggle and grimacing in pain. “I'm really sorry, Don. About everything. I know those are just empty words, but I'll prove it to you.” 

Don struggled to control his breathing and watched suspiciously as Michelangelo plugged in the heating pads. “Where do you want these?” Mikey asked. 

Don rolled his eyes but had the decency to make sure that Michelangelo couldn't see. He knew that his brother was going to make a crack about his size, and he really didn't want to hear it. The alternative was calling Casey back into the room, but if he wanted to make any headway with Michelangelo, he couldn't do that. And, in spite of his anger and resentment, Don really did need his brothers back. “Beneath my shell, please, and then up my sides a little,” Don requested softly. He moved his protective shield of blankets down a bit. 

Donatello saw Michelangelo’s eyes widen when he caught a glimpse of how big Don had gotten, but to Mikey’s credit, he kept his mouth shut. Don groaned as he lifted his heavy body off the bed just enough to allow Michelangelo to slide the pads beneath him. The movement stole what little breath he had regained. Don sealed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at Mikey. Much to his surprise, he felt his brother's strong arms come around him and gently pull him onto his chest. Don opened his eyes and peered up at Mikey. 

“I'm so sorry, Donnie. I'm so sorry,” Michelangelo whispered. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Between the pain, the exhaustion, the shock of having Mikey show up, and the fact that one of his brothers had finally found it in their heart to embrace him, Donatello lost his composure and heaved a sob into Mikey’s chest. “I forgive you. I'll forgive you for anything if you just promise me you'll stay. Don't leave me again, Mikey, please. Please don't leave me,” he begged. He knew how pathetic he sounded, and he hated himself a little for it. He was just too weak and too tired to hold back.

“Shhh, I won't leave you. I promise,” came Mikey’s wavering response. “I don't deserve such easy forgiveness, though. We should at least talk about what happened.” 

Don nuzzled against his brother’s plastron. “I don’t have the energy to hash this all out right now. Besides, the only real way to prove that you’re sorry is to stick around. I just need you here with me now. The rest doesn't matter anymore.”

Mikey realized just how deeply his poor brother must be hurting by the way he swung so rapidly between anger and open desperation. That talk definitely needed to happen but forcing Don through that right now seemed akin to torture in Mikey’s mind. “I'm not gonna leave you. I'll stay right here with you for as long as you want,” Mikey soothed. 

Don’s only response was a moan of pure relief and another heaving sob. Michelangelo began shushing him again. “It's okay, Don. Shhh, it's okay.” He pulled his brother closer, momentarily forgetting about his condition. The unexpected weight and the pained gasp that Don issued brought Mikey back to reality. “Oh shoot, your back! I forgot. I'm so sorry.” 

“It's okay,” Don groaned as together they arranged the heating pads. “You meant well.” 

Donatello sighed as he settled back into Mikey’s chest, careful to keep his belly as far from his brother as he could, for fear of freaking him out. It was an awkward angle, but Don didn’t care. He was willing to endure the discomfort if it guaranteed that Mikey would stick to his promise and stay.

They laid there for a bit while the heating pads worked their magic. Mikey’s grip on his brother never lessened, and soon an exhausted and greatly relieved Donatello dozed off in Michelangelo’s arms. Mikey rubbed Don’s shell and shoulders as best he could, hoping to lure his brother into a deeper sleep. 

Once he was sure that Don wouldn't wake up, he called for Casey and asked him to text Leonardo and let him know where he was. The last thing he needed was Leo thinking he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Michelangelo promised Casey that he would stay, and told him to go home to April if he wanted to. Apparently, Casey still didn't trust him, as he refused to leave. Michelangelo would have to work on repairing that relationship as well. 

As the night wore on, Michelangelo dozed off himself. He woke sometime later, still caught in a hazy, dreamlike state. Don was still fast asleep, softly snoring, even drooling a little onto Mikey’s chest. Normally he'd be grossed out, but Don seemed to need this badly, so Mikey just dabbed it away as best he could with the sheets. 

Don didn't stir, and Michelangelo found himself gazing thoughtfully at his brother’s swollen plastron. Even in his sleep, Donnie was trying so hard to keep it away from Mikey. His shell was arched as much as possible, and his body was twisted at an odd angle. Mikey could see that Donnie had somehow managed to shove a pillow beneath his stomach in a desperate bid for support. Perhaps it was also intended to serve as a barrier between them. Donatello must have done it after Mikey fell asleep because Mikey certainly didn’t remember it being there before. 

Michelangelo’s tired mind went back to the day that Don had been so excited about the babies moving, only to be rebuffed and rejected by all of them. Mikey would never forget the shattered look on Donatello’s face when Leo snatched his hand away. In hindsight, it seemed so cruel. Why couldn't they see what they were doing to poor Don? How had it come to this? Mikey was so overcome by remorse, he found himself slowly reaching out, as though feeling the babies now would undo everything somehow. If only it would be so easy. 

Michelangelo lightly touched the side of Don’s distended abdomen, surprised again at its size. Don was getting pretty big when he left, but now he was just plain huge. It looked incredibly uncomfortable. Mikey fumbled around a bit but was disappointed not to be able to feel any movement. He reached a bit further and inadvertently jostled Don awake. The snoring stopped and he felt his brother begin to stir. 

“Mikey?” came Don’s groggy voice. “What are you doing?” The pointed tone as Don finished the question made it clear that he suspected Michelangelo was trying to sneak away. 

Michelangelo sighed. “I didn't mean to wake you. I was just hoping to feel one of the babies moving. Guess they're all asleep though, like we ought to be.”

Don frowned in disbelief, and Mikey gave him a reassuring squeeze, just to make it clear that he had been moving closer, rather than further away. It had the intended effect; Don relaxed and chuckled a little. “They’re almost never all asleep at the same time.” He took Mikey’s hand and moved it up and to the right. “Try here. This one’s always the most active.” 

Sure enough, Mikey was rewarded with a firm kick to the fingers. He was surprised by the strength of it. “Wow!” he said as he looked back to Don, who was watching him intently. “You're carrying a real future ninja, there!”

Don smiled tiredly. “Believe me, I know.”

“It's amazing, Don,” Mikey said as he continued to feel the kicks through Don’s oversized sweatshirt. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, after a while. I still think it's amazing too, though.” Don didn’t bother to mention the broken rib. Instead, he yawned and snuggled happily against Mikey’s side. “This means the world to me, you know,” Don said quietly. 

“I'm sorry we let you get so low that a little affection is this big of a deal to you. I shouldn't have let it get to this point. I should've been here for you all along,” Mikey said sadly. 

Donatello sighed. Michelangelo was correct about that, but Don wasn’t ready to discuss it quite yet. He was too scared of driving Mikey away. “Thanks, but I've been more worried about my kids. Sorry to say this out loud, but I've felt pretty unloved lately, and it's made me feel all the more sad for them. They'll be all alone in this world, just like we were. They need people to love them, other than just me. Because if something were to happen…” Don trailed off. 

Michelangelo inadvertently clenched his hand, causing Don to wince. “You think something is going to happen to you?” he said in alarm. 

“No,” Don answered automatically, before correcting himself. “I don't know. I've just been worried.”

Michelangelo was confused. “About the birth? You seemed so confident before.”

“That was before,” Don said wistfully. 

“Well, what's changed?” Michelangelo asked, suddenly wide awake. 

“The size of me, for starters,” Don said sadly. “It's a little intimidating. And maybe it's the depression talking, but it just feels like these kids are sucking the life out of me. I don't have the energy to get out of bed half the time, never mind somehow birthing three babies. I'm scared, Mikey.”

Michelangelo was scared too. It was hard to look at Don, to feel the size and weight of him, and pretend that it would be an easy birth. Not only that, but Don’s exhaustion was almost palpable. Mikey had hoped that a good night's rest would help, but that seemed like wishful thinking. Don was the type of exhausted that couldn’t be fixed by a night or two of sleep. Still, thinking back to previous conversations, Don had always known that a natural birth might not be possible. “We can always just take them out surgically though, right?”

Donatello chuckled. “You make that sound like no big deal.”

“But you've been preparing, right? Researching and planning and all that other stuff that you're so good at?”

“Well yeah,” Don replied as he wriggled his achy body around a bit. “There's a plan, but April’s no surgeon and the sewer is no hospital. A lot could go wrong.”

Michelangelo took advantage of Don’s squirming to pull him back into an embrace. “You've got to believe that it’s all going to be okay. Visualize a successful outcome, like Master Splinter taught us.”

“Okay, okay,” Don appeased. “Just promise me that you'll be there for them. I mean, I understand that I have no right to ask you, but-”

“Of course, I will,” Michelangelo pledged. “They're a part of you. How could I abandon them?”

Donatello laughed bitterly. He tried to suppress it. He really did. It took Michelangelo a minute to figure out what was going on. When he did, he joined in the laughter, only because it hurt less that way. “Well, just because I abandoned you doesn't mean that I'll abandon them,” he defended. “I'll be here for all of you guys, I promise.”

With that, Mikey moved in as close as he could without disturbing Don’s bad back and held his brother tight. In turn, Don pulled the pillow out from beneath himself and tossed it aside. Whether it was the laughter or movement, he didn't know, but all three of Don's babies had erupted into a flurry of activity. Don rolled fully onto his side and cuddled against Mikey. He groaned in frustration and ran a hand over his plastron, clearly wanting to calm his unborn down enough that he could go back to sleep. 

Wanting to help however he could, as well as reinforce his promise to look after his nieces or nephews, Mikey rubbed circles over Don’s swollen midsection. He didn't know how Don could even hope to rest with all of this going on inside of him, but he soon let out a shaky sigh and relaxed against Mikey’s side, blissfully unconscious.


End file.
